Dark place
by ZBBZL
Summary: Undercover has always been his thing. But now he's not sure he can do it anymore. What will Deeks do when Kensi and he are forced to go under, assuming deeper and darker identities than ever ? HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

**So here I was struggling with my studying and with the next chapter of _Sleepless_ _nights_ _in_ _L_._A_. And this came out of nowhere. I just don't know if I'm good with this because I'm a hopeless romantic and romance and feelings are easier for me, but I gave it a try anyway. Tell me what you think about it and if you'd want me to go on or if this doesn't sound right.**  
**That said, I still don't own anything - stating the obvious, though. But the idea is definitely mine.**

* * *

He's a damn good cop, maybe what LAPD has best. Undercover is his _thing_, no one can deny that.

Girls dig the hair and the baby blues, and the uniform, for some. He's a tall, good-looking, thirty or so man. Deep, ocean blue eyes; blonde, unruly hair with messy curls that everyone dies to thread their fingers through. Sun-kissed tan, all muscles and gorgeous abs. From the outside, he has and is everything women want.

Kids love him because he never really grew up, or at least that's what his coworkers think. Put a gun in an eleven year-old boy's hands and leave it to him to save his mom's and his lives, and then go and tell him he is immature. He relates to kids because he never wants them to go through what he did, and if they do, he does everything he can so they can go on with their lives as best as possible.

And that's part of why he's so good at what he does.

The very first thing you can say about Marty Deeks is that he is deeply humane. He's annoying, childish, sometimes witty but mostly laid-back; he can't respect any deadline and he's overly flirty. He takes nothing seriously, he's envied by some, hated by others. _Tolerated_, mostly. The only exception is his partner, and his entire team at NCIS. They do seem to truly like him, though Kensi still thinks he's all of the above.

But it's because he wanted to do something that mattered that he became a cop. Even people who don't like him acknowledge the fact that he's a damn good one, and that it's mostly due to his compassion. To the fact that he has a heart of gold, though no one will ever say it to his face.

So sometimes, he does wonder why he has to be such low-life scumbags to do it, to make the world a better place. It seems quite paradoxical, and there are days he's not so sure anymore if he wants to be a part of it.

Because he never thought that his good looks or charming ways would lead to this.

He never had any trouble with infiltration because at some point, his blue eyes or his dazzling smile always _help_. Leave it to him to interrogate suspects, using all his persuasion to coax them into confessing with just a blink of his lashes; just ask him to talk to witnesses, making kids or women smile, laugh sometimes. He knows just how hard it is for Kensi to use her sexuality to trap suspects because that's what LAPD has expected from him too. He knows he's handsome and his soothing blue eyes make people trust him. There are days he's sick just at thinking how many people he has deceived to get what he wanted.

And there are days when he actually spends the night throwing up, thinking of all these things he did to get the job done.

Because he's charming, he has no problem getting into any organization he's expected to take down. Because he's a smart-mouthed kid, he talks people into doing what he wants.

But not this time.

He refused. First, because he had Kensi now, and he just couldn't leave her alone for months. Lt. Bates had told him they required his presence back at LAPD for at least six months, up to a year; but that knowing him, he could do it in three months, the idea of his partner waiting and longing for him being a good motivation to speed things up.

God, he doesn't know how he should feel about it. Part of him is flattered, and feels like other cops finally recognize that he's gifted. It's an honor to know that people think he's the only one who can do it. But the idea of being apart from Kensi, even for a day, is just utterly inacceptable.

Though the main reason he said no doesn't revolve around her.

It's just _sick_. He just can't do this anymore. Undercover. It's one thing to go under for a few hours, and another one to _be_ someone else for months. And now he isn't only Detective Marty Deeks, LAPD, but also the liaison officer with NCIS, he has grown to accept, and even like who he is.

But mostly, he can't do this again. Human traffic. So when Bates asks, he says no.

Kensi immediately knows something is wrong with him that day. Most of the time, she forgets that he's still LAPD because he's _always_ right there with them, but when she asks him about the sore mood that morning and he doesn't answer, she _has_ to dig deeper.

She asks Hetty, who tells her she has to talk with her partner if she wants to know what's on his mind. She asks Callen, because he is their team leader, and he says he has no idea and that whatever it is, he doesn't want to butt in because he wouldn't like it if someone did that to him.

So she asks Nell. She knows Nell has a soft spot for them, for the two of them as an entity. Nell always looks at them like they are one, Deeks and Kensi being so intimately tied the lines separating them got blurred long ago. They _are_ Deeks _and_ Kensi. So Nell tells her that the last call he received was from LAPD.

She confronts him about it. He just says that the day began really badly and that he begs her not to make it harder.

Kensi drops it, and when their case is closed, he comes to her with a burger and a beer. They end up at her place, and she listens to him for hours, telling her that he feels bad for not doing it, and she tells him he doesn't always have to be a freaking hero.

That was eight months ago.

He almost forgot about it. Almost. Because as hard as he has tried not to think about it, he can't help the shiver that runs through his body every single damn time he goes to LAPD headquarters, and faces the missing people's wall.

The first one was Elaine Bloom, 16. Gorgeous hazel eyes and brown, wavy hair that reminded him of Kensi. He won't ever say it out loud, but he had been physically sick after he saw the pictures of what had happened to her, because all he could see there was Kensi. She didn't look that much like her, but there was something in her features that was enough to make him have nightmares for an entire week.

She was abducted a little over a year ago, and if he had gone undercover, maybe she would be alive today.

And he has spent months looking at all those faces on the wall, catching a glimpse of parents, husbands, friends passing by the police station, asking for help. Asking if they had any lead, if they would get to see their loved ones again.

He knows every single name, and so far, there has been fifty four women abducted, sixteen of them were underage, but it's the same for him, anyway. To know that they are somewhere, drugged, beaten, unable to escape. That men…

If he starts thinking about it, he won't ever be able to get up in the morning and look himself in the mirror, knowing that he didn't move a finger to save them.

But then one day it all changes.

They have a new case. Sophia Alvarez, daughter of a petty officer, has been reported missing for three days. And after dismissing the possibility of Sophia running away and any other idea they could have, they have to surrender.

Because on the fourth day, LAPD finds the body of Lola Smith, a seventeen year-old girl who has apparently no link to Sophia. They didn't go to the same school, didn't live in the same area, they had no friends in common.

The only thing they share is that Sophia's hair was found on Lola's shirt – if you can call what she was wearing and found in a shirt, because it barely covered her. And Lola was on the list of the missing girls linked to the human ring he refused to infiltrate.

So now, he gets to do his liaising. Because his LAPD case became a NCIS one.

And God if he doesn't throw up again when he gets home that night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Well, first, thanks for the feedback for this first chapter ! It took me a few days to come up with the second, to put the ideas together but I hope you'll like it as well. Let me know what you think about it. It's the best way to help me improve themes that are not so familiar to me, angst and drama.**

* * *

He still remembers that morning eight months ago like it was yesterday.

He had received a text from Bates the night before, asking him to meet with him before starting his day at OSP. And he had known right away that something was wrong. Bates _never_ texted him. Most days, he had no contact with LAPD, and having Kensi by his side, a real team that would do anything for him made him sometimes forget that all in all, he was just a _guest_ there. The cop among the feds, and that his loyalty still laid with Bates and the police force; that the vows he had taken long ago hadn't been affected by the current arrangement of his liaising post.

He is a cop. This isn't only what he does, it's who he _is_. He can't do anything else, and he doesn't want to. He has never regretted going to law school, but he knows that becoming a cop is the best choice he's made in his life.

But loyalty has to go both sides, and LAPD hasn't shown much to him. NCIS did, and still does. It was Kensi who sat by his bedside when he was shot; Hetty, who became his next of kin. Sam bossed him around to make sure it wouldn't ever happen again, and Callen taught him what true loyalty was when he put down his badge to go and save Hetty.

And though he's not trying to justify his actions, finding himself excuses for refusing the undercover op, he can't deny that he just couldn't picture leaving them. Having to leave them behind and take the risk of never seeing them again.

He isn't scared of death. He swore to protect and serve, and if he has to die in the line of duty, then so mote it be. But now, what he's scared of is leaving Kensi alone. They've spent months building their relationship, the trust between them, the care, the affection sometimes barely hidden behind the banter, their signature teasing. Leaving her now would just show her that she's been wrong to place her trust and faith in him.

If he left her now, he would be the fourth man leaving her without an official leave. And out of four, three never came back. He knows Kensi has had to go through her father's and Dom's death, and Jack breaking his promise to love her and cherish her and be there for her every single day of his life. He knows she never got to say goodbye, he knows just how utterly terrified she has been when he was shot, fearing that she might not get to be there in time to see him one last time.

He is a cop. But he's _hers_ too. And now it considerably carries weight.

So when Bates starts talking, he doesn't really listen to him. He can hear his voice, he can't help but shudder at what he says, feeling the nausea creeping up, the lump in his throat swelling at his every word.

But it's too much, actually. It makes him sick. He just can't say yes.

Bates asks him to sell his soul. To never be able to look himself in the mirror again. He asks him, demands him that he becomes what he's been fighting against with all he's worth for years.

He wants him to become the worst person he has ever been, ever _created_. Max Gentry was an asshole; he's done terrible things, he's hurt people, and he liked it. But after this op, Max will just be a small fish in the sea compared to what he's expected to be.

Bates wants him to infiltrate the human ring. They arrested a guy who was part of it, and who _took_ _care_ of the youngest victims. He was one among others, but still, his _job_ was to approach the girls, seduce them, make them trust him enough to follow him. Because none of the seventeen abductions of teenagers, now including Sophia Alvarez's, showed any sign of struggle – something that is completely different from the abductions of the other thirty-eight women. They disappeared without leaving a trace, and eight months ago, they managed to take down one of the guys involved.

Bates expects him to replace him. He wants him to get Kyle Phillips to talk and give him a name, any name; the name of someone he can go to and introduce himself as a guy who likes to hit on underage girls. A guy who is lying in wait for young girls after school, watching them and following them, sending seductive looks and sexy smiles their way, telling them just how pretty they are, just how different they are from any other woman.

A guy who corners them in a dark alley and then puts an hand on their mouths so they won't yell and scream for help, and then, God only knows what he does. Does he give them an injection ? Does he hit them, punch them ? Does he have his way with them before handing them to someone else ?

Kyle Phillips certainly did. Several times.

The most important info they get from him is why they abduct the women.

They are of all age, ranging from fifteen for the younger ones, to thirty or so. Blonde-haired, blue-eyed girls; tanned skin or peachy complexion; brunettes and red-heads, tall, slender women like Kensi, dollish ones like Nell.

They don't get them pregnant and then sell their babies. They don't sell them as sexual slaves. They don't send them on a ship to someplace in South America or Europe.

They offer them to whoever pays enough.

To whoever wants to have _fun_.

He didn't even finish interrogating the guy. He stormed out of the interrogation room, running to cross the threshold of LAPD's headquarter and leave the building, and he threw up in the nearest trash bin.

He had flinched when a hand laid on his shoulder. And when Bates asked him one last time if he would do it, he hadn't even succeeded to stand tall. He just threw up again, the knot in his stomach bigger than ever.

* * *

And today, Hetty is waiting for him to present the case to the others.

Callen and Sam, Eric and Nell, and Kensi, _his_ _Kensi_; his partner, his friend, the woman he'd do anything for, the woman he'd die so _this_ would never, _ever_ happen to her, are waiting for him to talk, all staring at him.

All able to see the struggle he's in.

All feeling for him.

They don't say a word though they're almost _scared_ that he knows the case so much it seems like the names of those women are forever etching in his memory. They don't say a thing when he recites the files by heart, not needing even once to take a look at them to tell them that out of the fifty-five women abducted, twenty-one were found dead from a few weeks up to months after. Drugged, beaten, signs of multiple forced sexual intercourses and assaults.

But Kensi can't hold it back anymore when she sees his hand trembling on the table when he turns his head and catches a glimpse of the pictures on the giant screen.

He is standing alone by this side of the table, all of them having unconsciously chosen to face him, listening to him as their leader. But she can't let him shouldering this responsibility and pain and every other emotion drowning him in.

No one says a thing when she walks to him and stands by his side, taking a file to keep on reading.

And no one says a thing when she leans in closer, her hip and leg and arm touching his as she lifts up her face to him and sends him a small smile that he tries hard to reciprocate without breaking down.

He does, though.

Hours later, sitting with her on her couch.


	3. Chapter 3

They say that the first forty-eight hours are the most important in locating a missing child.

As a cop, he knows it too damn well. Hell, everyone knows it. He can't even seem to start counting how many parents he's met, mothers crying and fathers struggling hard not to break down as they'd tell him that they knew their child was dead because it had been two days and they still hadn't found them. He has heard so many parents asking him to say the truth, that they could handle it; that they knew that their daughter or son wouldn't come back because kidnappers don't keep them for long after they got what they wanted.

Sometimes, he thinks that it's best for them if they actually die during those forty-eight hours. Because he can't begin to see how staying captive for months, being raped, beaten and drugged, can be better than dying for those girls and women. He can't understand how they will move on after that. He can't understand how a fifteen year-old girl or a young mother will ever dare to step out the front door of their houses ever again; he can't see how they'll ever trust people again. How they'll be able to not flinch every time someone touches them; how it will feel to walk alone in the street, afraid of every person around, every noise, everything.

As a parent, he totally understands that they'd still _want_ to hope to see their loves ones; but as a cop ? Women usually want to talk to women when they come to the police station, but he's talked to his own fair share of abused women. He's seen the spark of life slowly fading away, leaving them trembling and wondering what they were gonna do with their lives.

He still remembers the first time it has happened.

Her name was Jessica Moore. Even with all the bruises on her face and body, she was a really gorgeous woman. Twenty-four years-old, mother of two young kids; long, red hair, blue eyes. Kindergarten teacher. He had just joined LAPD back then. Night shift when the radio in the car signaled an assault, a four-minutes drive to reach the street and find her, her clothes shattered, blood on her cheek and arm from nasty gashes.

He still remembers the visit of her husband, two weeks later. They hadn't caught the guy, and his wife had hung herself.

So yeah, maybe death is their best option.

And now, it's been two days since Sophia Alvarez has gone missing, and he can't find in him to really hope she's still alive. He knows that what he should do; assume that she's still alive and that their goal is to get her back that way. But deep down, he just hopes for her she isn't.

Because, God, she's seventeen. She's a confident, nice, smart girl, who was supposed to go to college and realize her dreams and have a great life. She's a sweetheart, probably a future prom queen; gorgeous green eyes and long, wavy black hair. Beautiful smile. She's seventeen and no matter if they find her alive, her life will be forever changed.

How is she supposed to have a great life if she stays locked up in her room, scared of going out ? How are they supposed to tell her father everything's going to be okay ?

He's seen too many of them to know that no, it's never gonna be okay. That no smiles or words can really hide what they're feeling deep down; the shame, the disgust of themselves, the constant fear. Now he knows. A long time ago, he didn't. Or he would have done something.

Something, so all the victims he's seen leave the police station wouldn't go home to swallow pills or hang themselves. Something to say, something to do.

_Anything_.

* * *

"Talk to me, Deeks."

She knows she's pleading, but she doesn't care. She _needs_ him to talk, needs to know he's gonna be okay. That he won't let it eat him alive.

Because frankly, it's making her sick too. And she won't make it through the day if they're both screwed up, nervous wrecks drinking beer after beer on her couch, day after day. She knows he needs someone to take care of him, but she wants him to take care of her too. For once, she wants him to go on super protective mode, because maybe worrying for her would make him forget about the guilt he unfairly directs to himself.

"Deeks. _This_, any of this, isn't your fault."

He shrugs, looking around her place like he doesn't know why he's there. Why he let her drag him back to her house, talking him into spending the evening with her when he knew that was where she was heading; trying to ease the guilt out of him, telling him that there are thousands of other cops who could do it, and that it's not his fault if no undercover op had been organized without him.

Telling him that he's made so much good with them at NCIS, that he can't shrug it off like it's nothing important. That what he does matters, somehow.

"You could have managed just fine without me. You did before."

"No. No, Deeks. I wouldn't. You're my _partner_, I need you, with me. You do perfectly know Hetty doesn't want you as a liaison. You're just as important as me or Sam or Callen."

"I'm a cop, Kensi", he just says.

"So what ? You're saying you regret staying over with us ? With me…"

His eyes grow wider at her weak voice, her tone so much softer than what he's used to with her. Barely concealing the hurt behind it, though. "Kens –"

"Don't. Just – listen to me, okay ? I'm glad you didn't go back. I know it sounds selfish, but I can be selfish when I want. Back there, you would've been on your own. I can't _allow_ that. You're my partner. Wherever you are, I have to be with you to have your back. That's what gonna happen. We're gonna find something and when the time comes to do something, I'll be with you. That's how it works."

He doesn't know what to say. He knows that people at NCIS have a deep sense of loyalty. That Hetty, Callen, Eric, Nell, Sam, even, and Kensi would do anything for him, just like he would for any of them. They're a team, but more, they're a family. People you can rely on, people who are always there, every step of the way. People who hold onto you when you're on the verge of letting go.

But hearing her say it, it's too much.

"Maybe I should go", he says, putting his beer down on her coffee table, and getting up. But then fingers close around his wrist.

"Like hell you should. Like hell I'm letting you go home and brood over. You're staying here."

She doesn't miss the way he doesn't make a dirty joke about it, teasing her about wanting him in her bed. God, if she wants him to joke today, so, so badly.

She gets up too, tugging gently at his hand to pull him to her bedroom, switching off the lights on their way. He doesn't say a thing about her leaving the mess in her living-room just the way it is, like he usually does. He just stays silent as she goes to the bathroom, closing the door behind her, but leaving it slightly ajar.

She sighs when she comes out to find him still standing there.

She has her bottom lip caught in between her teeth as her hands fly over his shirt, slowly unbuttoning it. The way that he is looking at her just makes her want to cry, and she hasn't cried in years. But this Deeks isn't her Deeks, her goofy partner; and seeing the lost kid he must have been, turning into the lost and hurt and confused man he is today, is just about enough to make her eyes water, tears welling at the corner, the pressure of her teeth on her lip harder to keep them from rolling down her cheeks.

She just gives a tug at his belt, letting him know that at some point, he has to come out of his trance, because there's no way she keeps on undressing him.

And then he's lying in bed next to her and she reaches for his hand. It's just a small gesture, a simple reminder of her presence, but the warmth of her hand sinking into his does so much more than any other word.

"Tell me a story", she whispers in the dark.

"What kind of story ?"

"Tell me why you became a cop. And don't tell me it's because of the uniform and girls and parking space. Tell me the real story. Go back to beginning."

"It's a long story."

"I have all night."

"It's a sad story", he adds.

"Well, I think I can handle you crying on my shoulder."

"You might be the one crying."

But she doesn't care. All she wants is for him to talk.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks for the support to this story, even after the long time without updates. My life is quite dark these days and I struggled to write this because it just got me deeper into darkness, but then I guess that from darkness comes hope too. I hope you'll like this one too; it may explain a lot.**

* * *

"So, wh-what do you want to know ?", he asks just as quietly, his voice slightly altered by the soothing pattern her thumb is absent-mindedly tracing on the outside of his palm.

"Whatever you're willing to tell me."

He swallows hard the lump in his throat. It's not like Kensi to be like this; her tone so soft he barely hears her, her gentle touch on his skin soothing away whatever fear or doubt he might feel. The closeness of her body, the way she's there for him, tender and compassionate, ready to be the shoulder he leans on. He likes that version of her, of course he does; he just doesn't like how weak he must look like for her to be like this all of a sudden.

He always tells her to stop acting like she's Wonder Woman, and that it's okay to admit to weakness every once in a while. The thing is, it's not something he's ready to do either. Especially not with her, because he can't have her think that he's a baby and that she isn't safe with him. It's his job to have her back and he doesn't want her to think he can't do it because of the seriousness of a case, or for personal matters of any kind.

He can't have her _worry_ over him.

Caring is okay. Making sure the other is as fine as they say is too. But worrying ? Worrying means that you're not sure the other is at the top of their game, and that, they can't afford.

"Deeks…You don't have – if you don't want to tell me _now_, that's okay."

"You want the short version or the long one with audio commentaries ?", he asks, trying to defuse the tension of the situation. But the gentle squeeze she gives his hand tells him she doesn't buy it.

He sighs. "Okay. You already know most of it, anyway. After my dad – my mom was a _wreck_ after he went to jail", he starts, turning his head on his pillow so he's looking at her, making out her features in the dark. "I think she knew deep down that she didn't deserve everything he put her through, but part of her…she got it bad. She really was in love. My grandfather, he died when she was just a kid; her brother, the year before I was born. Bank robbery. Got killed trying to protect a woman the robbers were about to shoot. And my dad – he got her pregnant, but he still married her anyway, so...I think Nate would say she loved him so much because he was the first man who didn't leave her. The only one to stick around."

She bites down on her lip at his words. _Hard_. So many times, it has come to her mind that Deeks might be the only constant thing in her life. His loyalty unwavering, his presence not always welcomed, but still pushing to get past through her walls.

She has come to associate him with the stability she never knew she craved.

He senses her unease and just waits for the tension to dissipate, her fingers that had unconsciously gripped his strongly, slowly loosening their hold. "Anyway, it was hard on her, and I didn't really help. I was stupid. Got into a lot of trouble with Ray. I still remember her face when she went to pick us up at the station…"

He shifts again, now staring at the ceiling. "I can't even say that we were young, because it isn't an excuse to do stupid things. We stole that car for _fun_", he chuckles. "Ray got lucky because his dad hadn't paid the telephone bill for a while, so the cops couldn't reach him. My mom was the one to come and get us…She was so ashamed. She pleaded the cops to not insist and go and see Ray's dad…She knew he was just like mine. And I guess that I got my puppy look from her, because they told her they wouldn't if she watched out – that next time they wouldn't be this lenient. She promised, and Ray came back home with us – my mom didn't want him to go home in case his dad had heard about it from someone else."

"She seems to be a really nice woman", Kensi just says, "You got that from her too."

He laughs quietly. "Yeah. Maybe. Then, after being grounded for like _forever_, we sat down for dinner. And there's a knock on the door. I go to get it, and then…God, I freaked out. One of the cops from earlier, standing at the door. I let him in and he walks to my mom, tells her the man whom we had stolen the car from isn't pressing any charges. He hints that he told him I was a disturbed kid, that my dad was in prison and that I was going through a tough age, something like that. So my mom thanks him and invites him over for dinner –"

"God, you had dinner with one of the cops who arrested you ?", she cuts him off. "That's so – so _wrong_!"

"Well, I got used to it. A year later, that same cop became my step-father."

* * *

That, she never saw coming. "Excuse me ?"

"You heard it well. I guess he wasn't scared of the challenge I was. Too interested in my pretty, single mom to really care! He asked her out, she said no, that she was too busy between her two jobs. So he waited, and asked again and again. One day she said yes. After that, Ray and I stopped fooling around. Or, at least, we tried to tune it down. And a year later, they were walking down the aisle."

"But – weren't your mom still married to your dad ?", Kensi asks, rewinding the story in her head to see if she missed a detail.

"The lawyer who took care of my dad's case, he told her she should try to do something with her life. That a guy like my dad was trouble, and that she should leave him while she could, give us a better life…So she filled the petition for divorce, and my dad was in no real position to deny her. I think though that he wanted her to understand that _he_ would be a better husband."

They both laugh this time. "God, your mom was a magnet for all single men or what ?"

"Well, I took my good looks from her, obviously", he says, the cockiness back in his tone, the lightness too. "Long, blond hair, waves down her back. Big blue eyes, and those long lashes…I don't understand how a pretty, smart woman like her could think that she couldn't do better than my dad…"

She smiles and opens her mouth, ready to throw a joke, mock him for his so-called good looks. But nothing comes out. The only thing she can think of is that his mom must be a _very_ beautiful woman, if she had a son like him.

"So, like I said, Ray and I tried to be good boys, but I ended up being better at it than him. I actually started paying attention in class and I got accepted into college. I didn't really know what I wanted to do, but Tom was really supportive. Paid for it, told my mom I'd find my way someday…"

"Tom ? Your step-dad ?"

"Yeah. Assistant Chief Thomas Deeks."

He turns his head back to her, surprised to feel his nose bumping hers as he does so. Without any of them realizing it, Kensi has slowly shifted closer to him, eager to her every detail, growing impatient at knowing the whole story. Through the darkness, he still can see the sheepish look on her face.

It doesn't last long, though, and she quickly recovers. "So…you took his name. Makes sense", she mumbles as she adjusts her position, moving her head so she's not so close to him anymore, his breath fanning over her sending tingles down her body.

Sparks that she'd rather ignore, thank you very much. "I guess it wasn't always easy to wear your father's name…"

"No, it wasn't. Took Tom's. They weren't really up to try and have another kid, so it was the next big thing. It felt like we were a real _family_, you know ? And then I went to college. I chose Law because I wanted to do something useful – I wanted to send jerks like my dad in prison, and defend those no one cared about. Got my degree, passed the Bar exam. God, I still see it clearly, my mom crying and telling everyone she knew about it…"

He sighs again and stops for a couple of minutes, and she doesn't press. Her fingers leave his and she turns to her side, her head perched on her hand, the other tucked between them, slowly drifting up and down his arm. She feels the goose bumps spreading everywhere on his skin, and only now does she realize that he's lying there bare chest when she herself is wearing a long-sleeved shirt and flannel pants.

She comes closer, laying her head on his shoulder, resting her weight against his body, reveling in the way his tremble slightly at her touch. And when he speaks again, his voice comes from somewhere, lost in disheveled waves. "My mom didn't believe it. I think she was too used to seeing me with mud and dirt and blood on my clothes, from the fighting and playing outside. And here I was sauntering around with new suits, my shirt tucked in my pants, shiny shoes and tie and all."

She can hear the smile in his voice, his mind probably going back to what must have been one of the best times of his life – making his mother proud. Having a family. Being good at something. And she can't help grinning too, but for all kind of different reasons. God, if it doesn't do things to her too, seeing him in a suit. She might find him even more attractive when rugged, but it's harder to breathe when he's all smart, his tall and lean body just nothing short of perfection when he cares to mind about his outfit.

"So I got my first internship. Nice boss, good lawyer, pretty decent guy. He had an unwavering moral compass. He took me to court with him, taught me everything I know. And then…Ramon Alejo's trial. Local gang leader. Charged with four homicides, cops. Principal witnesses : my step-dad and three other lieutenants. We required a life sentence; he got away with twenty-five years. The next morning, at 8 a.m sharp, all across town, his buddies cleaned the _mess _after him…No less than five bullets in Tom's body when he opened the front door to fetch the newspaper…"

She can't help it; a small gasp escapes her parted lips before she can clasp her hand upon her mouth. She lifts up her face from his neck, but only to find him staring intently at the ceiling, his lips pressed in a thin line.

"Deeks – _Marty_. Oh, God…"

She braces her weight on one elbow next to him in bed, as her other hand finds its way to his chest, laying flat by his heart. But he doesn't move; doesn't look at her, his eyes still staring blankly, anywhere but at her.

"I wasn't even there…", he says after a minute, breaking the silence. "Had my mom woken up first, she would have picked it up. But it was her day off so she was still sleeping…" He gulps hard, closing his eyes firmly shut, struggling hard to hold back the tears he just _can't_ let fall.

The warmth of Kensi's hand on him doesn't help. It's coaxing him into letting go, when all he wants is to shove it down in a corner of his memory and never bring it back to the surface ever again.

"The gunshots startled her awake and she ran to the door…And I wasn't even there to hold her. I was at the office, already working on another case –"

"God, Deeks. It wasn't your fault. It was never your fault." She blinks back the tears gathering at the corner of her eyes, but still, she doesn't find it in her to hold them back. Slowly, they drop and roll on her cheeks, finally landing on his naked chest.

That's when he snaps back into focus, lifting his head, his eyes finally meeting hers – deep, _haunted_ blue locked with tormented brown. Barely a second after, strong arms are hugging her close when she _should_ be the one comforting him; he's the one to tuck her head under his chin and whisper sweet nothings, slowly soothing away the uncontrollable shaking of her body.

He never said anything, but she never asked.

God if she isn't angry at herself right now for not being a good friend, and for never asking him – pushing like he _always_ does with her. Because she's almost sure he has no one to talk to – no one to turn to when he needs to let it all out.

She should be that person.

She _wants_ to.

When the last shiver leaves her body, his hands keep rubbing on her arms, warming her and calming her down. Her own are tucked between his chest and her body, her face hidden in the crook of his neck, the blush of her cheeks deeper by the minute as she is so ashamed of herself for breaking down when he's the one in pain.

And then he speaks again, his voice shaky, but his resolution strong. "So I thought I owed it to him – I _had_ to do something. And maybe I wasn't meant to be a lawyer. So I joined the police academy, and here I am today…"

And God if she isn't utterly in awe of him right now for being there.

But oh, how she hates most cops too, for being so mean to him – he's the most decent guy she knows, even after all he's been through. The guy is the definition of _nobility_. Among all the people working at LAPD, how many of them can say that they're here because they truly do want to make a difference ? How many can tell they've been to Hell and back, and still claim to come close to the most selfless, brave man she's ever met ?

And oh God if she doesn't hate herself for being one of them, sometimes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you all for your kind words. This story does seem to write itself on its own accord, because as soon as I had finished the previous chapter, I was already starting this one. Hope you'll enjoy it as well.**

* * *

Sleep doesn't welcome him in its tight embrace. At all. He can't fall asleep when Kensi is sprawled all over him, her face nuzzled in his neck, her nose rubbing against his jaw whenever she moves; her hair falling in smooth curls over his chest, her arm tightly wrapped around him.

Her leg nudged between his, her bent knee dangerously reaching up and too close for comfort.

Any other day, or night, he would have to resist the urge and want building up in him, fight hard to control his reaction to her. _Not tonight_. She is hugging him close, her body perfectly embracing his, her steady heartbeat calming his, and it doesn't do a thing to him at all.

God, she's beautiful, and everybody – including her, knows just how much. Or, at least, she knows the hold she has on him and every straight man. But right now, she's just being a good friend, the very best, even. She isn't in his arms because she wants him, but because she wants to be there _for_ him, and that makes all the difference in the world – a simple, vivid reminder of the lines they shouldn't cross, the walls still erect between them.

She cares for him because he's her friend, her partner. Nothing more. And when it dawns on him, the realization is enough to compete with the best cold shower.

So he just settles with tucking an arm behind his head, his eyes focused on the ceiling, the fingers of his free hand running and treading through her hair. He listens to her quiet breathing for hours, tries not to jolt her whenever her hair or her nose tickle him. He tries not to miss her touch and warmth too much when she rolls slightly, most of her weight resting back on the mattress, her hold on him slowly loosening.

But the way she softly _whimpers_ when he tries to extricate himself from underneath her just about undoes him.

"Where are you going ?", she mumbles, her lips forming that pout he has never seen on her, and that he knows he won't ever forget. Her eyes are still closed, her face pressed on her pillow, but her tongue is darting out, moistening her lips. "Deeks ?"

He's already up, searching for his shirt and jeans, the dim light of the sun slowly piercing through the blinds not really helping him. "I – I have to go. I left Monty alone all night. And…there are supposed to be wicked waves by the bay."

She sits up quickly, reaching for the lamp on her bedside table. She blinks her eyes a few times before they adjust to the light and she takes a look at her watch. "God, Deeks. It's _5_ a.m. Why are you even awake ? Just come back to bed already."

She is ready to fall back against the cushions, but then she sees he isn't moving. "Deeks. What's with you ? I'm asking you to come back to bed, and you just stay there and stare at me ? _Shouldn't_ you be jumping on the occasion ?"

He should be making fun of her for being a cuddler – telling her that her mouth might say she doesn't want to be around him when she's awake, but that her body craves for his touch at night. That her subconscious is head over heels in love with him and that he doesn't mind. He should mock her for sounding this needy, _begging_ him to join her in bed.

But all he can really think about is how nice it would be to spend night after night with her, and not because she thinks he's all damaged and she wants to find out more about him to eventually fix him and the mess that his life is.

She sighs and groans before getting up too. He watches her rummaging through her drawers until she finds what she was looking for: her pink bikini, a pair of shorts and a huge tee. She turns to him, one hand on her hip, pointing a finger at him with the other. "You – you are paying for breakfast. You wake me up at 5, that's the least you can do."

"You could still go back to sleep."

She rolls her eyes, but there's more anger than usual in them. "I'm just gonna ignore this comment. Don't you see what you're doing ?", she asks, her tone softer, tired. "You're doing exactly what you always reproach me for. You're backing up on your part of the deal. You – you can't confide in me, and then expect me to just forget about it. I'm there for you, you understand that ? It means that we should stop playing that silly game of never talking about it again. So, no, I'm not letting you flee like a thief in the middle of the night because you're _scared_ I won't look at you the same way when the lights are on again."

She chews on her lips, the anger gone, now replaced with the _need_ for him to understand that it's not just words. That when she first opened her door for him, it meant more than just a night spent on her couch, talking and drinking – that it meant that she was making room in her life for him to settle down, permanently. But now, though it's hard, she's telling him – out loud. She's voicing the feelings she swore she'd never feel again, putting down in words the _thing_ between them; the trust and the promises that go with it.

And now she really understands how hard it must be for him when she's usually the one taking a step back when he pushes all the way in, destroying every wall around her. And she wants to do the same with his.

He makes a step towards her, then another, until he's just an inch away from her; his tall figure hovering over her, his eyes the shade of the sky that she has grown to be _so_ fond of. "I'm sorry. You're right. There's nothing I love more than surfing with my own personal fan girl watching me." The smile is back on his face, as small as it is.

She laughs lightly, punching him playfully on the chest. "Cocky mouth you've got. I hope you live up to the expectations."

"Oh, don't worry about that. I'm a God out there. But…Thanks, Kens. Thanks for wanting to come with me", he adds, seeing her slightly furrowed brow. "But I'll be fine, eventually."

"In the mean time, you mind if I tag along ? I wouldn't want my partner to think he has to go on Super Hero mode and do everything on his own…"

"So I'm like Superman and you're my Lois Lane ?", he asks, stepping further in her personal space, even daring to lift a hand and smooth a curl back behind her ear.

She just rolls her eyes again and ruffles her hand through her hair. "Well, no, of course. You're way more like Lois Lane than me. I'm obviously the super heroine and you're just my mortal, love interest who happens to have a bit of a cool personality."

"So I'm your love interest now ?", he teases, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Good to know. And you said I'm cool."

"Just go and make us some coffee while I get dressed", she tries to order, pushing him off her. But the grin on her lips doesn't match her annoyed look.

"Whatever you want, _Lois_."

* * *

Callen and Sam turn in the direction of the voices coming along, the sound of bickering reaching them before Kensi and Deeks step in OSP.

"And why would _you_ be the super hero ? Because you're a guy ?"

"No, because you are just like Lois. God, you're an army brat, strong-willed, fierce, sexy and wild –"

"Okay, you two. You should have invited us", Callen interrupts them. When they only give him a weird look, he goes on. "To the wedding. You two sound more and more like an old married couple."

Kensi smiles deviously before looping her arm with Deeks'. "Oh, you know, it was just a little thing", she says with a nostalgic look on her face, gazing up at her partner. "Very private. Just Elvis, Monty, Shaggy and me."

"_Vegas_ ? Isn't that cliché ?", Sam asks, before grinning at Deeks' stunned face. "You were drunk, Deeks ? You don't remember ?"

"Glad to see the atmosphere is a bit cheerier than yesterday." Hetty's voice makes them jump, and all four of them turn to see her coming from her office. "Mr. Deeks, a word, please ?"

His _wife_ just gives his arm a small squeeze before pushing him towards their boss. Deeks follows Hetty like a kid just about to be punished, and he stands still beside her desk, his hands crossed behind his back.

"Don't be ridiculous. Sit down, Mr. Deeks. Tea ?"

"No, thanks. Is this about Lt. Bates ?", he immediately asks. His phone had signaled him two missed calls, one while he was surfing, the second when he was taking his shower, but he wasn't really planning on calling back.

He already knew what Bates wanted to tell him.

"It is, yes. I received a quite unpleasant call this morning. Because of you, Mr. Deeks", she tells him as she brings her cup to her lips.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. This call wasn't the best way to start my day, but you should be proud that people are fighting to have you." When he cocks an eyebrow at her, visibly not getting where she's heading, Hetty puts her cup down and crosses her fingers, putting them under her chin. "Lt. Bates asked me if we had any lead about poor Ms. Alvarez. And then he required your presence back at LAPD if you weren't really needed here. I told him you were."

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth at her words. He's not used to hearing people talk about him like he's an essential part of something bigger, but it does warm him inside. "He wants me to go back undercover, doesn't he ? I know that's why he was calling – and that's why I didn't call back."

"This is indeed why he called. His exact words were, I quote: "You won't find your missing girl, unless he does what he's been refusing for months." I do have to say that I don't appreciate Roger Bates' talent for discourse, or rather, lack of."

"Yeah, me neither", he admits, his tone low. "He told me…", he starts, his mouth slightly agape and his eyes wandering back to where his colleagues are chatting. "All those months ago – he said _my_ 'pretty girl' would still be there when I came back. He thinks I don't want to leave her because…He thinks she's clouding my judgment."

"Is she ?", Hetty asks, though her tone lets him know that no, she doesn't believe it, not even for a second.

He stops staring at Kensi – because she's the only one he sees, really, though Callen is standing just by her – and turns his attention back to Hetty. "No." He doesn't have to think twice about it; she's not. She's his partner, no matter the feelings he has for her that go beyond loyalty and trust and everything that partners should share. It's not because of this that he's still here with them, with _her_. "No. I think – she's my best shot, you know ? She makes me better. She makes me _want_ to be better, try harder…She's so _much_ more than just a pretty girl."

"That she is. But you are also much more than what people give you credit for, Mr. Deeks."

He snorts; Kensi is seriously rubbing off on him. But Hetty just look him right in the eye, and he can't find it in him to look away – and though he's just unable to accept compliments, right now, he _has_ to. Because she's not letting him go until he does. There are days when he just doesn't understand what she finds in him. And others, when he doesn't care, as long as she still does. But mostly, he doesn't know if he's amazed or afraid of how much her opinion means.

Hetty, Kensi, it's the same, really. The whole world can think he's a waste of space, as long as they don't, he'll be fine.

Maybe that's why he _can't_ go back to who he was, what he used to do. Because he isn't so sure that Kensi could look at him the same way; no matter what she says or promises, she just can't know that it won't change this – whatever _this_ is. Them, their relationship, their thing.

She doesn't know what it's like to go deep under.

She doesn't know what it feels like to _be_ someone else.

Hetty clears her throat and he looks up, and he can see that behind the clear concern in her eyes, lies something else. "Mr. Deeks ? May I ask you something ?"

"Sure."

"Lt. Bates, he mentioned someone. An alias of yours, I presume. One Matthew Sturridge." He shudders at the name, and that doesn't go unnoticed by her. "Is he – is he anything like Max Gentry ?"

"Worse. But you could have read that in my file. Or asked Eric and Nell."

"I'm not a spy, Mr. Deeks." He laughs. "At least, not anymore. I wanted to talk about him with you."

He hesitates, turns one last time to look at Kensi – she's sitting at his desk, searching through his drawers to find his hidden box of Oreos or Twinkies. "Max is a saint compared to Matt. Max, he's just another guy who thinks he's a god – always high, he'd rather punch than talk. Loses his temper easily. Matthew…he's smart. But the guy's a freak. He uses people, he thinks they are his toys and that the world is his playground. He manipulates, he deceives, he lies. Smart tongue, smooth moves. Style."

"He could have done so much better, but he prefers to be a monster, right ?"

He just nods. There's not so much else to say about Matthew, except that he's _sick_.

"Well, I may not know this Mr. Sturridge well…But if you ever think _he_ would be able to learn something – I'm sure we could provide him with some back-up." She lets the implication hang in the air, the tension palpable between them, radiating from him.

He sure as hell doesn't want Matthew anywhere near them – near _Kensi_.

But they have nothing. He, or any other cop, never got to make Kyle Phillips talk. They don't know the women's whereabouts, there's no link between them; they just happened to cross the wrong man's way. They were at the wrong place at the wrong time, they were too pretty, too attractive; they just were _easy_ targets.

It's so easy to lure a teenage girl into a trap, telling her just how beautiful she is and how guys her age don't deserve her. It's easy to corner a young woman who crosses the same street every day, to know at which moment she'll be alone, when she'll be the most vulnerable. It's easy to make them follow you when you have a gun or a knife or when you threaten them to hurt their loves ones.

Cassie Craig, the twelfth woman abducted, she had – _has_, because he must assume she's still alive, a baby boy. She was walking home after picking him up at the daycare when she must have been taken, because it was the crying of the baby that alerted passers-by who stopped and found him alone, crying and fidgeting in his stroller, alone in the park she used to cross to go home.

So many innocent women out there. They were just unlucky.

Sometimes he wonders why they – whoever they might be, care so much and take risks to abduct women when they could easily find some in the streets. L.A. must be _the_ place where wannabe actresses or singers are most crowded, or runaway girls. They don't have to be so selective.

But then he guesses that their clientele must have high standards; hell, even Matthew Sturridge wouldn't just sleep with the first girl passing by. And God knows yet that he isn't hard to please.

"Sturridge left for Vegas a little over two years ago. Trust me, Hetty. It's best for everyone if he stays where he is. Anyway, even if he has to come back, there's no way you guys get involved with him."

"I don't think that's your call, Mr. Deeks. This –"

He pushes his chair back and stands up quickly. "No. No way. I'm telling you, Hetty; if I have to go back, I'll do it alone."

And with that, he rushes out.


	6. Chapter 6

**People usually say I'm a sweet girl, all sugar and spice and everything nice. But right now, I think I'm proving them wrong - and it surprises me how angsty I can get when life doesn't go as I want. Hope you'll enjoy this one too, that very much explains why this story is listed as "Angst/Drama".**

* * *

"Where do you think you're going ?"

Her worried voice doesn't stop him; Sam blocking his way out does. Deeks glares at him and is just about to remind him that Jason Wyler and Marty Deeks share the same body and muscles and that he could easily fight him, but he stops. The hostility in the room radiates from him, not from them; they're trying to get in when he wants so badly to keep them out.

He is cornered, anyway. Sam is standing, facing him on his way out of OSP, and Kensi and Callen are by the desk, staring at him. Hetty is still looking at him from her office, and Nell and Eric are watching them from above. Discretion is still something both techs have to learn.

Kensi comes to him and her hand on his arm feels just like fire. He wants to pull away; anger her enough so she'll let him go, though he perfectly knows that no matter how pissed at him she could be, she'd still go to the ends of earth for him; _with_ him.

"You trust me ?", he whispers as he turns to face her, his lips barely moving.

Kensi frowns. She doesn't know what bothers her most; that he would put their – hers – trust issues on the table to his advantage, or that he might not know the answer; needs to hear her say it. "'Course I do."

"Then trust me on this one. Let me do my job."

"It's not a matter of trust", she says, shaking her head. "It's about you thinking that you have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. You don't. Your job is to be here with me, just like mine is to be out there with you."

Sam's hand lands on his shoulder. "We're a team, Deeks."

He lifts up his face and looks behind Kensi, blue meeting blue as he locks his gaze with Callen's. The team leader gives him a puzzled look, the silent question clear; he just answers him with a short nod and heads to the stairs, the others following him to the OSP center.

Nell's cheeks are slightly flushed, embarrassed at their earlier indiscretion. But he just gives her a small smile that only makes the blush spread all over her skin, down her neck. "Eric. Could you open LAPD's record for Matthew Sturridge, please ?"

The file appears on the screen alongside with his false driver's license. And then again, Nell gasps a little, but a quick look at Hetty proves him that she's also unsettled. He knew they would, or at least, he had guessed for Nell, because Hetty must have asked for her help when she was looking for info about his next-of-kin.

With his face and hair arranged like that, he's his father all over.

He feels the tension in Kensi's body next to him. She has her lips pressed in a thin line, her brow furrowed, and though she'll never admit it out loud, he's sure that she just loves his fluffy hair. Seeing him with shorter hair, a darker shade than usual that comes close to brown and after a shave doesn't seem to be to her liking at all.

"Matthew Sturridge, born in June, 8th, 1981, Carson City", Eric reads, "Charged with sexual assault in 2006 but he was cleared after the girl retracted her statement. Arrested in possession of marijuana in 2008 but he was released after his lawyer proved that it was for medical use. Arrested in late 2009 for public indecency. Has a restrictive order against him from one Kendra Adams after he sent her to the hospital."

"Where does this guy come from ?", Callen asks. "What kind of op was it ?"

Deeks clears his throat, preparing himself for a long story. "Four years ago, we were investigating about a drug cartel here linked to a bigger one based in Sacramento. I went undercover as Matthew for fourteen months; climbed every rung until I got to the top. I started as a bartender in the club they owned and used as cover for their little business. And then I ended up as manager. I was in charge of everything in there, from the girls to the cargo."

"So how can you be so sure it's safe to go back as Matthew ?" She doesn't care about everyone looking at her and she doesn't care if she sounds like all she wants to do is find a loophole somewhere that would keep him safe with them.

"We managed to bring it down by causing a little family feud", he says, trying to reassure her, but it miserably fails. "There's no one left that could really do Matthew any harm. If anything, most people will be happy to see him back."

Kensi doesn't miss the way he switches from 'I' to 'we', as she's now used to the way he never lets people give him credit for what _he_ did. But it isn't what catches her attention most. "How so ?"

His eyes just darken at the idea. "Because Matthew doesn't mind doing what others don't want to. He has that bad boy vibe girls fall for and guys admire. His buddies think he's so cool with all these girls that pass by. They'd welcome him like the prodigal son."

"How did it end ?", Sam asks. "How is it that Matthew was never suspected of something when the cartel went down ?"

"Because Matthew didn't leave just like that", Deeks replies. "He left for Vegas before LAPD's raid because of this restrictive order. _That_ actually happened, except that Kendra Adams is an alias for Detective Amanda Loretti. She was undercover in a strip club that Matthew's friends liked and they brought him there once. We pretended to hook up to exchange info. I had just gotten the news from my case handler that the end was near and that I had to find a way out. I spent the night with Amanda. The morning after, she accidentally fell in the stairs leading to her apartment. We thought that considering Matthew's temper, it would be a good excuse. I told the guys she was just a tease who promised many but didn't do much and that I had gotten impatient and that the 'crazy bitch' had dared to call that assault."

He tucks his hands deep in his front pockets, staring right in front of him and he tries hard to focus on anything but Kensi's eyes on him, or anyone's. He knows they're all looking at him, something in between shock and pain and compassion all combined in their gazes. He knows they all feel for him because this guy is so far away from who he is, it must have taken everything in him to only do the littlest things Matthew has done.

Sometimes he's afraid that even though he hated every minute of it, he still did it anyway. He's afraid that maybe, deep down, he didn't do it only because it was the right thing to do; that maybe, it wasn't as hard as he said it was.

That maybe there's not so much that differentiates him from his father.

That it comes _naturally_ for him to be that kind of guy. That it's not this hard to be friends with drug dealers or gang members or murderers; that their jokes did make him laugh and that their exploits did make him envious.

That maybe spending night after night clubbing and partying, drunk girls giving him lap dances, the same girls he would later pin to the wall and make out with under his buddies' sight, wasn't so bad. That maybe it gave him a thrill nice, goofy Marty Deeks never felt. And maybe he's dreamt of doing the same thing with Kensi once or twice, after a day when she would have teased him and flirted a bit too much.

So in the end, maybe it's not _just_ an act. And that's what scares him the most. Not knowing where Marty Deeks really ends, and where Matthew Sturridge or Max Gentry begin; _if_ there's still a real boundary. If there _ever_ was one in the first place.

He flinches when she touches him, her warm, gentle hand gripping his forearm, and he knows it hurts her. He sees it in her confused gaze; in the way she immediately takes her hand back. But mostly, he knows that she's hurting because she's trying to find a way to help him; help relieve the pain, the slow agony.

And it hurts him to think that she could spend a lifetime searching for one, but that he knows deep down she won't ever find it. That somehow, someday, she might stop, and just give up.

And if she gives up on him, what is there left for him ?

* * *

He hears someone coughing and he turns to look at Callen, whom he has never seen so lost. Callen is usually the one they can lean on; sometimes he scares them, sometimes he acts like a damn fool who thinks he's invincible and can dodge bullets. Sometimes they think he's crazy, but all in all, Callen is their rock. He's been through everything and he's still there, ready for another fight. So seeing him so confused, clearly sensing that something is happening under his very eyes, and unable to do a thing about it…

It's like their whole world is crumbling apart, and all because of him.

"But, Mr. Deeks – how would Mr. Sturridge come back ?"

"He has kept in touch with some of his buddies. I never kill an alias, you never know when you might need it", he quickly adds upon seeing everyone staring at him with puzzled looks. "So Matthew has called or texted them every once in a while since he left for Vegas, you know. Told them he was working with his uncle in his casino – he raised him after his parents both died in a car crash when he was 14. You know, that kind of stuff. So no one will be surprised if he comes back. After all, it's been more than two years ever since, so it's time to make a comeback."

If there's something they all admire – even Sam, really deep, deep down – it's how method he can be.

"He has two buddies: Jackson Donovan and Avery Lynch. They're no big fish, but they have eyes and ears everywhere. They always know where you can go when you want to have fun. They might not know a lot, but I'm sure they have heard something about it. If Matthew plays his cards well, he'll manage to get them to find him some girls to play with."

He can refer to Matthew as another person all he wants, they all see through the façade, and know deep down that it makes him sick just to say it like it doesn't matter. Because it doesn't, to Matthew. Matthew is the kind of guy who thinks women are just good lays; that people are his toys and life is just a chess game that he always ends up winning. Because people both sickly admire and fear him, because he's smart and can make people do whatever he wants. Because Nate would say he's a psychopath, though he's more of a sadist. He likes to _play_. Winning in every and any way does things to him that alcohol, drugs and sex don't; he lives _for_ the thrill it gives him. The power he knows he has on people; how he can make women's knees buckle just by passing them by, how he can get people to grant his every wish or desire because they're both attracted to his dominant personality, seeking for the protection of a stronger one, and afraid of what he could do to them if they didn't.

No one seems really pleased with the idea, but they know that they have nothing and that it might be their best shot, however sick and twisted it might be.

No matter how _scared_ they are to let one of them go and throw himself into the lion's den.

But Kensi tries one last time. That's who she is. "And…can't Matt have a girlfriend ?"

Deeks isn't the only one to tense up at her words. They all know that this might just trigger it all, and that all hell is gonna break loose now.

"No, he can't. Matthew doesn't date", he replies calmly, though. Gritted teeth and closed eyes, but his tone is calm.

"Well, he does have a sex life, right ?", she insists.

Actually, no. He has made out with a lot of girls, gotten a bit handsy in front of the guys to show off, and he has indeed brought some of them home. But they were all so drunk and trashed that they all ended up throwing up or snoring way before clothes could be discarded. And then, it's not so hard to get a girl to think she has spent the best night of her life when she wakes up in bed with a half-naked guy, when she's herself wearing his shirt – Matthew is not a romantic at heart, but he, like any other guy, loves the idea of owning them in a way, _branding_ them. And Marty Deeks is enough of a gentleman to not let a girl sleep in her clothes stained with puke or wine; God be his witness, it's hard to undress a woman without looking at her, but he did manage.

It wasn't even the worst. Waking up to a girl who can't remember the night before but still smiles this smile that could light up a room because they spent the night with Matthew Sturridge, it made him literally sick more than once. Finding no regret or anguish in their eyes when any reasonable woman would have freaked out…

It's killing him to know that there are so many women out there, lost, depressed, who feel like no one cares about them; women so broken that they wouldn't mind, more, than they would love to spend the night with a sick bastard like him.

It's killing him to know that someone hurt them enough one day to make them think that it was the best life could give them.

"Yes, he does", he lies. "But the only reason why he wouldn't throw a girl with the sheets would be because she's a goddess in bed. And before you say anything, even in that case, that wouldn't make her his girlfriend. She would just be the girl that keeps him sexually satisfied; not one he would trust or talk to or introduce to his friends. So _she_ wouldn't be able to find out anything."

He stares at her and she stares back, fierce, determined brown firmly locked with resolute blue. The rest of the team is looking at them, going back and forth between the two at every reply, watching as the ball keeps switching sides. At her every retort, Deeks will find an argument against her idea, and Kensi will always try harder. They don't know how it's gonna end, but one thing is sure, it's gonna be dirty.

"Then maybe I could just hang out in the places you and your friends go and hit on one of them."

He raises one hand to his hair, yanking at the curls pretty hard. "God, Kens, stop! Did you listen to anything I've said ? Matthew and his friends, they're not just bad boys. They're the real deal for God's sakes! Matthew thinks women are whores, that's what you wanna be ? You wanna be the girl he just pins to a wall and has his way with in front of everyone because he feels like it ?"

He's screaming now, because God knows if he can't understand why she insists so much. "You want to be one of those girls with daddy issues that just throw themselves to his neck because they think that he's gonna love them if they do everything he wants ? That's what you want ?"

"No! Of course I don't. I don't _have_ to like it, you jerk!", she yells back. "But I'd rather be _his_ whore than leave _you_ alone out there! Can't you understand that ? Are you too stupid to get it ? You're _my_ partner! Whatever you have to do, I'm there. Wherever you go, I'm there. Just knock that into that stupid head of yours and deal with it, you – "

"You two, stop! I don't want any of you to speak again until I've said so", Callen yells louder than both of them, startling Nell who jumps a little. Even Hetty looks at him like she has never seen him before.

They're both panting now, looking at one another like they could kill each other or just kiss senseless until they both die of air deprivation. There's so much anger and frustration and more complicated feelings lying underneath that no one can really put a finger on their exact nature.

Not even them.


	7. Chapter 7

**Okay guys, this is gonna be the last update in a while - my family is visiting in a few days and I have lots to do. It's also the last chapter before they go undercover and things go downhill. So enjoy the 'calm' before the storm.**

* * *

Callen usually doesn't need to yell to be scary or listened to; his icy blue eyes and the way his emotions can vanish from his face in a matter of seconds are enough. But with those two, it's the only thing he can think of right now.

He's sure that Kensi must have been a pretty stubborn little girl, Marine dad or not, because for as long as he has known her, he has never seen her take 'no' for an answer. Working with Deeks, her polar opposite, the only one who isn't scared to challenge her, has turned her world upside down; taught her to accept – or at least deal with the fact that it can't always go her way, and that sometimes she's wrong. Mostly, that sometimes Deeks knows her better than she assumes, and that he knows what's best for her – for them.

The problem with Deeks is that he's all too quick to put himself in harm's way just to protect her – and protection is something they all know Kensi Blye doesn't need, and hates. That usually triggers Kensi's instinctive response of anger and irritation, and then it _always_ leads to one of their arguments that only end up with them yelling at each other, then throwing mean comments – mostly from Kensi, or Deeks alluding to something that angers Kensi even more. Kensi tells him she doesn't need to be saved and that he doesn't have the _right_ to treat her like some damsel in distress, and Deeks enumerates all these times he had to save her because she's damn too stubborn and can't admit that she may need help. It escalates with him telling her that she isn't ready to make their partnership work, and she tells him that she would have no problem with someone else who would treat her like an equal.

Callen and Sam, Hetty, Eric and Nell are used to those fights. At first it was scary, and there was a time when Callen was seriously concerned about why Hetty didn't separate them and send Deeks back to LAPD. But then, one day, he saw what she saw in them.

They always made up after their fights – and those didn't happen so much, he can only remember three or four times when things really heated up in a wrong way. In the end, Kensi is always the one to make the first step towards Deeks, as surprising as it may sound. She always apologizes for telling him she would work better with someone else, and Deeks melts when she finally admits she wouldn't be able to; that no matter what she says, they're in this together – and that she wouldn't have it any other way.

And the man who can make Kensi Blye say this is a lucky damn one for sure. But mostly, he is what she _needs_, even if she is nowhere near ready to phrase it out loud. Callen knows that now, and that's why he's afraid this is gonna turn out like another one of their fights. Because they don't have time to fight, and Deeks certainly doesn't need her to yell at him when he's about to do something he clearly doesn't want to and needs her support.

And Kensi can't have her partner think he means nothing more to her than an annoying chauvinist, and then feel guilty about it and be unable to apologize because he's gone and there's so much tension between them no one is sure how it will turn out once they're both undercover.

So Callen yells.

* * *

"Okay, Hetty, what do _you_ think ?", he asks their boss, hoping that at least they'll listen to her.

Hetty examines both of them, noticing how they are still standing so close to one another, but have never seemed so far apart. She can see Deeks' hands closing in fists that he keeps opening before closing them again, and she knows that he doesn't want to look like he's about to lose control, but that he isn't far. They all know he isn't a violent person, and that they can count on the fingers of one hand and still have a few left the number of times he has truly lost control – but now it's different, because he isn't homicidally angry. He's damn _scared_.

And that, Hetty can perfectly understand. "I think that Mr. Deeks' objection to bringing Ms. Blye with him is totally understandable." And when she sees Kensi frowning, she quickly adds, "But it's not my policy to send one of _my_ agents alone out there when it's not absolutely necessary."

None of them misses the way Hetty said 'agents'. His badge can show LAPD, but they all feel like he's one of them, and Hetty wants him to know that – acknowledge the fact that he no longer is the guy she forced on them, but the one they'd do almost anything for.

The one they saved when LAPD didn't move a finger, the one who woke up to a beaming Kensi leaning over his bedside. The one they trust and have come to appreciate and want by their side.

"But, Hetty", Deeks intervenes, his tone pleading, "Kensi knows nothing about –"

"Could you not talk about me like I'm not there ?", Kensi cuts him off. "I know I have never been undercover for as long as you have, but it doesn't mean I'm not talented!"

"I don't think Mr. Deeks said that. I'm positively sure that it wasn't what he meant."

Kensi crosses her arms over her chest, stepping away from Deeks. And here is what Callen was afraid of: Kensi going back in her shell, so angry she can't see clearly that anything Deeks does, he does it for her and not _against_ her. "It sure sounded like it!"

Deeks grabs her arm gently, bringing her to face him with so little resistance from her they all can see it's more about stubbornness than real irritation. "You want me to be honest with you, Kens ?" She nods. "Then you have to accept the truth, even if it hurts you. I think you're amazing. You're an amazing woman and an exceptional agent. But you don't know what it's like to become someone else for days or months – someone that is so far away from who you are you have to make _constant_ efforts. I'm not talking about playing house or the drunk couple like we've already done so many times, but someone evil, someone sick. Matthew is a guy who picks up girls who get off by being humiliated and treated like shit, you understand that ? I'm talking about having to be someone else 24/7 with no interruption, because if you allow yourself a minute of going back to who you are, you can ruin it all and end up being killed."

His tone is soft now, his eyes locked with hers and seeing her only, everyone else completely forgotten. "I can't bring you with me because I'll be scared all the time that something could happen to you because of a simple slip of the tongue. And then I'll have to break cover because you're my number one priority and I won't be able to think about these women who are waiting for us to save them."

Those are scary, _dangerous_ words to say. Not only because they reveal way more about his true feelings towards her, but because they could make her take a thousand steps backward, avoiding him like the plague for saying them – to her, and in front of the entire team. He knows she isn't ready to hear them, or accept the fact that someone can love her so much and won't leave her after. Sometimes he even wonders if she will ever be, but then he has to admit that he doesn't really care; it's not like he can help it anyway.

But she has to know it. That he will always put her safety first, and that it's the reason why he can't afford bringing her with him. That he can't be Matthew with her because they won't have a minute to go back to being Deeks and Kensi, a safe haven where he will get to apologize and treat her the way she deserves to be talked to and looked at. There won't be time for any of this.

He's doing it for her sake, and his, too.

Kensi bites down on her lip, the waves of anger slowly fading away and leaving her body, only to leave her slightly trembling under his touch. Once again, all she can really focus on is his fingers circling her arm, their warmth and solid, reassuring presence sinking into her skin; his eyes on her, his words for her to decode.

If Hetty sends her with him, there's not so much he can do about it. But he wants Kensi to truly understand what it implies. He wants to convince her otherwise, but if not, he needs her to know what she's dealing with.

He needs her to look at him like a friend and not a foe, someone who is trying his best to keep her safe, and not only because she's a woman and they're in the middle of investigating a case of abducted women forced into what is most likely prostitution.

Slowly, she nods, but he knows she won't let it go this easily. He turns to see Callen tilting his head toward Hetty, nodding once briefly before clearing his throat. "Maybe…You should go first, Deeks. Take a few days to organize everything and go back to being Matthew, meet with your friends. And then I'll send back-up."

Kensi takes a step, but Sam's hand on her shoulder – when did he come to her, she wonders, stops her. "I'm not back-up, I'm his partner!"

"We know that, Ms. Blye. But we'll need to come up with a good alias for you, get you ready for this assignment. In the meantime, we don't have time to waste, so I'm sure Mr. Deeks can manage just fine. Like he said, his friends will be happy to see Mr. Sturridge back. There won't be any risk for him."

Kensi opens her mouth to reply, but Sam's hand only squeezes her shoulder tighter, so she presses her lips firmly together. And oh so slowly, she nods again.

"Well, then. I will call Lt. Bates to let him know that you're going to meet with him later to discuss the pertinent details of your operation, Mr. Deeks. For now, I'll let you brief the others about everything that needs to be known about Matthew Sturridge."

Hetty leaves the OSP center and they all turn back to him. Kensi does walk away from him though, freeing her shoulder from Sam's hold, avoiding Callen's gaze, and finally she sits between Nell and Eric.

"So…What is else to know about this guy ?", Sam tries. "And his friends ?"

Eric's hands fly on his keyboard, making Donovan's and Lynch's files appear on the screen. "They don't have that much of a criminal record. Barely a couple arrests for little things."

"They're not as sick as Matthew", Deeks says, searching for Kensi's eyes, but she keeps them firmly focused on the screen, though he knows she can feel him watching her. "Jackson has a sister, Calista. She's the only woman he treats with respect and admiration, and she's his conscience. He's a little shy with girls so he's happy that Matthew is such a babe magnet and can find him – or pay, a girl to spend the night with. He drinks a lot, parties hard sometimes, but mostly, he's no big fish. That's why he and Avery never were arrested when we took the cartel down. They are of no interest if no one tells them to do something."

"I have a Calista Donovan", Nell says, and the picture of a blue-eyed, brown-haired young woman appears alongside with the others. "Calista Donovan, 22. She's a college student at UCLA, majoring in Economics and Political Science. She seems to be a nice girl."

"She is. Callie knows what her brother does and hates it – but he's her brother, and she loves him just as much as he does. And though she has tried to knock some sense into him many times, it never worked."

He sees how Kensi's brow furrows when he says that, and he realizes that calling the girl Callie must have reawakened a feeling Kensi will never admit she can feel: _jealousy_. "_Calista_ doesn't really like Matthew. And she was never afraid of letting him know, though Matthew can be pretty intimidating. She's much braver than her brother, and most people. She's a bit like you, Kens."

Kensi just shrugs, still not looking at them, and Callen sighs. "Could she know something ?"

"I don't think so. Jackson doesn't talk to her about what he does. And I'm 100% sure he isn't involved. He may know something because he hangs out with everyone. He's not important enough so people will try to hide things from him. People talk freely in front of him. And if Matthew tells him he wants a girl, Jackson will know where to find one."

"I thought that Matthew was so handsome no girl could resist him", Kensi almost spits.

Sam and Callen just give him a look that tells him to not take it personally, though they all know it's nearly impossible, especially considering the intensity of their relationship. "It's not because he's handsome. It's because those girls have low self-esteem and are attracted to his dominant personality. They think it's fun and rebellious to hang out with a guy like him. They have no family most of the time, and they're not looking for something serious. They just want to be with a man who… I don't know. Why do some girls like it rough when others want candles and champagne ? The women Matthew goes for are clearly into a guy who knows how to take control. But sometimes, they tend to want more, or act more like girlfriends than good lays so it wouldn't surprise Jackson if Matthew said he wants a girl who does everything he wants…"

He lets the implication hang in the air, and they all understand that Matthew Sturridge isn't above requiring the services of a prostitute. The simple idea makes Deeks sick and the guys feel for him. Only Kensi still doesn't look at him, though he can see she's biting down on her lip again, her hands clenching the armrests of the chair.

"And Lynch ?"

Deeks shrugs. "Not so different from Jackson. He's less afraid of Matthew, though. He still wouldn't dare to go against his will, but compared to Jackson, they're more on equal grounds. Jackson fears him more because Matthew used to hit on Calista, and he has witnessed how he is with women, and how he likes them…I never touched her", he quickly adds.

"We know that", Sam tells him. "You don't need to say it."

"It was the best way to keep her away. They live together, and I didn't want her to be near Matthew, so I thought that if I tried something with her, Jackson would tell her to try not to be there when Matthew comes. It worked, for some time. But there were nights Jackson and Avery were so trashed I had to call her to bring them home. They might be criminals, they still didn't deserve to die in a car crash because they were DWI. Though, of course, Matthew used to tell Callie he only called her to see her again."

They're impressed to see how he finds good excuses for his every move that comes closer to Marty Deeks than he should. Because they know that a reasonable reason would be to say that he couldn't afford to have them die when they can be useful to his investigation – but that it's _not_ enough for him.

He gives them other details, as many things as he can remember. And once he's done, he knows he should go and see Bates, and then, go back as soon as possible under. He knows it; doesn't mean he's thrilled by it, especially when he can feel the tension radiating from Kensi. She's still not happy with him going alone first, just like he isn't with her joining him later.

But when he bids his goodbyes, promising to come by later so Eric and Nell can do their techy things with Matthew's phone, and discuss the last details of the op with Callen and Hetty, Kensi stops him.

"I could come by later tonight…help you rehearse your lines", she says, her eyes still hesitant, reluctantly meeting his. "You could tell me more about the girls Matthew like so I can get into character more easily."

He understands the underlying message loud and clear. She wants to apologize and spend what will be their last moment as Kensi and Deeks together in a long time. But he can't. "I don't – it's not a good idea. I need some time to go back to being Matthew. I'm sure you understand."

She fights back angry tears, but nods all the same. "Okay. You're method, right. I'll see you in a few days anyway."

She storms out of the room, and Callen gives him a short nod. "I'll go and take care of her, don't worry. Hang in there, man. Take care of yourself."

He leaves the room too, and Sam walks him to the door. Tells him to not get himself killed or he will revive him and then kill him again. And then, before anyone can walk in and see them, he gives him a short, bro hug, along with a few taps on the back. "Don't worry about her. We'll train her well for when she joins you. In the meantime, focus on the mission and don't let yourself worry about her being angry or anything. She's not. She's just scared and she doesn't want to show it, so she's hostile when all she really wants deep down is to hug you and never let you go."

"I'll tell her you said that", Deeks teases.

* * *

"Kensi, this punching bag hasn't done a thing to you. If you wanna be angry, be angry at the men who took these women. Don't blame Bates or Hetty or me for taking your partner away from you. Don't blame Deeks for doing his job."

She doesn't answer, her gloved fists still knocking on the punching bag hard. He sighs for the hundredth time today and goes on. "He's in love with you, Kensi." She lifts up her face to him, her eyes wide, but he raises a hand to stop her. "Don't deny it, you know it's true. Deeks doesn't love you like a friend or a sister like we do. He's in love with you. The guy would kiss the earth you walk on and take down anything that goes in your way. So, just for once, try to imagine what it must feel like for him, okay ? Do you think that a man who is this in love with you could stand to treat you like Sturridge does ? Do you really think that he can really separate what he does as Sturridge from himself ?"

"He isn't Sturridge."

"No, he's not. But I'm pretty sure that if he had to shove you against a wall, or force you to do things you don't want, he'd feel guilty. I'm sure that if he had to hurt you to sell the cover, he'd feel guilty. Because no matter how many times you keep repeating that it's just an op, he would still be the one to have done all these things. You can't blame him for loving you so much he wants nothing more than to protect you. And if you're honest with yourself, you know deep down that you like it. Anyone would; having someone who cares that much about you. So, instead of fighting him, try to be on his side. He needs you. I know you do, too."

She wants to say something, anything. Deny it, tell him he's delusional. But she knows he's right; knows it in every fiber of her being, that there is so much more than a simple _thing_ between her and Deeks. That what she doesn't want to label, is there anyway.

And that she loves him too.

And that she'll miss him like crazy and be afraid for him every single minute of every day when they're apart and she's not there to back him up.

And that, somehow, it's _okay_.

Callen gives her one last look and leaves, muttering something that sounds like _This conversation never happened_.

Barely a minute after, she's running out of the gym to her car. And then she drives until she's parking outside LAPD's building. How long she waits there, she doesn't know. She doesn't really care either, her mind just keeps replaying Callen's words in her head. How he basically got her to come here, how he showed her what she had been refusing to see for so long.

She does read the text Nell sends her, telling her that Callen and Sam are going to interrogate Kyle Phillips again, and that Hetty said she wasn't expected back before the afternoon. It doesn't surprise her.

When Deeks comes out of the building, he barely has time to see her before she runs to him, and he can't do a thing but stand still, stunned, when she wraps her arms around him. It takes him a good minute to hug her back, because he's still wondering if all of this isn't just a dream. His hold on her isn't as strong as hers, one of his arms around her neck, the hand of the other running up and down her arm, but hers just tighten around his waist, her head buried in his chest.

She's not crying, and she won't. She's just committing to memory his scent, the way his body feels flushed against hers in a welcoming, soft embrace. She's tasting what it feels like to have Deeks with her one last time, because the next time they'll see each other, he won't be nice and tender and everything that she loves about him.

No more teasing grins, no more jokes.

No more _Deeks_.

And then she loosens her grip and leans back to look up at him. She has to blink a couple times in order to not let fall the tears that she knows are gathering despite her best efforts. To his credit, he doesn't say a thing; he just stares back, his eyes still wide at her surprising move.

She moistens her lips, slowly detaching her hands from his back to settle them lightly on his hips, her eyes focused on the scruff that soon won't be there since Sturridge shaves. If anything, she mostly can't look him in the eye.

"I'm scared, okay ? I'm scared that something may happen to you, and I'm not there…I don't want today to be the last time I see you alive. And I'll miss your hair. Here, I said it."

"My _hair_ ?"

"Yes, that's what I said", she groans. "Don't make a big deal out of it. It's just that brown doesn't suit you."

He knows it's the closest he'll get to 'I'll miss you'. And it doesn't surprise him that she would admit to be afraid, but deflect her other feelings with a joke. One move at a time, after all.

She lets go and it's clear she could stay like this forever – would _love_ to. But life always gets in the way of what she wants, so she disentangles herself from him, threatening him of bodily harm if he ever tells anyone, and they go back to OSP, both knowing that it's the last time they'll cross the threshold together, in what could be a very long time.


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm making the most of the fact that my baby cousin fell asleep and is a deep sleeper to write. The sound of the keyboard doesn't seem to disturb her! Anyway, on with the chapter!**

* * *

Callen sighs for what feels like the hundredth time in five minutes. "Try again, Kens. You look like you're gonna rip my head off, not like you're turned on."

Kensi can't help the mocking grin spreading on her lips. "No offence meant, but it's quite hard. I mean, you're like my brother! Besides, who's gonna fall for: 'Your dress would look better in a crumpled heap on my bedroom floor, babe' ?", she says, mimicking his voice. "_Seriously_ ?"

"I know. You think _I_ like it ?", he asks her, retrieving the hand he had on her upper leg. "But Bianca is the kind of girl who likes that so, please, try a bit more. I know _you_ would kill on the spot anyone ever daring to tell you that, but Bianca would probably just bite or lick her lips…You get the idea."

"Sturridge is a pig. But even he wouldn't sink that low – using pick-up lines, really ? If anything Deeks told us is true, he doesn't need that for girls to fall for his charm."

The one hundred and one sigh escapes his lips. "Kens. The purpose is for you to get used to being hit on by someone you know. You're right, Sturridge will probably just pin you to a wall and hike up your skirt. I won't. If you can't be serious when it's me, what will you do when it'll be Deeks ?"

It's the one thing they've all been wondering, though no one had really voiced it until now. How will Kensi and Deeks be able to put aside their relationship, their feelings – the ones they never confess, and the ones they joke about, to get into character, enough to be convincing ? Because it's one thing to play the happy couple for a few days – and it's definitely not as hard as they could have thought, because they do act like an old married couple most of the time. But it's completely different to become those people so far away from who they are; for Deeks, to treat people like they don't even belong to the human race, and for Kensi, to be a girl who needs a guy so bad she'd do anything he wants.

"You want me to call Eric and ask him to help you ?", Sam says, a maddening grin on his lips. "He has that little surfer vibe you love so much about Deeks", he teases.

Kensi laughs that terrifying laugh, but the soft blush on her skin tells him he is the one having the upper hand. "Ha. Ha. At least, Eric is younger than Callen. Maybe _that_ would help."

"Oh, you wound me, Kens."

Hetty is the one most worried about the situation, and so that's why she asked Callen to help Kensi get into her role, although they all know it's gonna be completely different with Deeks.

They flirt all the time. They think it's harmless, _fun_, even. Deeks flirts with her, teases her, pushes her away from her comfort zone, and when they all think Kensi is gonna snap, she just throws a joke back, and the game never ends. Sometimes she is even the one initiating it and the fact only is enough to throw Deeks off balance, to the team's amusement.

It's who they are, what they do. It's _them_. The easy banter that hides the concern and the care they're not ready to acknowledge out loud; the flirtation that is so much easier than a confession, and that they use as an excuse for why none of them seems to really date anymore these days.

And Hetty knows that crossing the line, just stepping a bit out of it to explore new horizons, could be the end of everything. But what is she supposed to do ? Separate them before those feelings develop any deeper; not allow Kensi to go with Deeks and then face her wrath ? She already gave them the talk once, there's not so much else she can do now. How is she supposed to tell them that when you play with fire, you always end up burnt ? She's been young and foolish too, once; she knows what it's like to have a handsome, intriguing partner, and to give your heart what it desires. But she's old now, and they expect her to have all the answers; not to this one problem, though. Even she doesn't know what to say or what to do – _if_ there's anything.

She just prays it won't be a rude awakening.

She watches them from her office, Kensi trying sultry smile after the other, biting her lips and walking and rolling her hips so quickly she might just end up with lumbago. Callen whistles as she passes him by, and after the fourth time, Kensi doesn't even seem to register the fact that his hand has landed on her butt – she did slap it away the first time.

Hetty allows herself to laugh a little, thinking of what this little scene would be like if Deeks was there. How many times Kensi would have slapped him, or how he would have enjoyed seeing her squirm and hold back the insults that would have loved to burst out of her pretty mouth. But it quickly dies when she remembers where he is right now.

Fast steps in the stairs make her lift her face to watch both techs run to the desks. But more than the loud noise of Eric's flip-flops hitting every step, it's the sharp sound of Kensi's heels drumming on the ground as she almost throws herself at his neck that startles Hetty. "Has Deeks called yet ?"

A soft flush creeps up Eric's skin. His brow furrows just a bit, and he doesn't even need to say it for Kensi to understand. "Sorry, no", he says anyway. "But we just got a call from LAPD. They said a young woman has just escaped what most likely was an attempt of abduction."

Callen tenses up on his seat as Hetty gets up to join them. The hopeful smile Kensi had just seconds ago on her face as she thought they might have received a call from her partner vanishes instantly, to be replaced with wide eyes and mouth agape.

"What happened ?", Callen asks.

"LAPD has already interrogated the witnesses, but they're waiting for you if you want to do too", Nell says. "They said that a lifeguard saw a man leaving the beach with a young woman who seemed sick. She was stumbling and he was holding her by the waist, but then she turned her head and apparently, the look on her face alerted him because he called out for them and the man just ran and let her fall."

"The beach ? That's pretty reckless", Kensi notes.

"Maybe not that much", Callen intervenes. "Playing the Good Samaritan who helps a woman in need could go unnoticed. How's the woman, by the way ?"

"She's been drugged, but she'll be okay. The lifeguard called the paramedics and they took her to the hospital. She's gonna spend the night there but you'll be free to go and see her tomorrow morning. They're gonna run tests to see with what she's been drugged."

"Well, that could be a misfortunate coincidence. But Mr. Callen, you and Mr. Hanna should go and see these witnesses. Ms. Blye, maybe it'll be for the best if you're the one to go and talk to this poor woman tomorrow. In the meantime, you still have work to do. You'll be seeing Mr. Deeks way sooner than we thought."

Sam frowns. "She could use a few more days to get ready."

Kensi turns to him, one hand on her hip. She doesn't say anything, but they all know she doesn't like it when people talk about her when she's just right there. Sam sends her an apologetic look, but goes on. "I mean, we could just send a text to Deeks and let him know. And she could go and join him later."

"Well, I think that Ms. Jones and Mr. Beale have better things to do than finding a cryptic code to text Mr. Deeks. Besides, someone does have to check on him at some point." Hetty raises a finger before Sam or Callen open their mouths again. "Ms. Blye will do her best, we all know it. She'll only have to make contact, at least for this first encounter. Then, we'll see with Mr. Deeks the best way to get her in."

It's Kensi's turn to frown, her mismatched eyes slightly narrowed. "You just want me to go there, fill him in, and then come back ?"

"Matthew Sturridge doesn't seem to be the kind of man to get involved in a relationship. So, yes, it would be better if you just met with him. And then, you could go back in a few days. Give him some time to brag around with his friends."

Kensi doesn't seem pleased at all with Hetty's answer, but she drops the subject. Nell makes a step towards them, leaving Eric's side. "Should we tell Deeks that Kensi is coming ?", she asks tentatively.

"Just send him a text from our secured line. Tell him to let you know where Matthew and his friends will hang out tomorrow night", Callen says, though it's clear that he's not thrilled by the idea. "It'll give Kensi time to talk to the woman and get the results from the lab. Maybe knowing what drug they used could be a lead. If it's something new on the market or anything, Sturridge could ask his friends where he can find something when a girl isn't all pliant."

Nell nods, and Eric and her are about to go back to their office, Callen and Sam leaving OSP too, when Hetty calls them back. "You can contact Mr. Deeks later. For now, bring back all the notes he gave you about Matthew Sturridge and help Ms. Blye get into character. You need all the info you can get about the man, dear."

* * *

He doesn't know what to think of the fact that Jackson and Avery are _really_ happy to see him back.

He isn't used to people being happy to see him; most of the time, they only put up with him because they have to. Ever since his step-father died and his mom and he drifted apart, he's been kind of a loner. The only person who has seemed to be glad to see him was Kensi, twice – the first time when she was trapped in a laser-filled room, and the second after he got shot and came back to work.

But then again, she was glad to see him – _Deeks_. And she's the only one who has ever showed signs of the care and the longing that come when you miss someone you like.

He wonders if he should be flattered or disgusted that his _friends_ missed him. Because they missed a sick bastard who isn't him – or at least, whom he hopes is far, far away from who he is. But in a way, it's a feeling he can't help but appreciate. He'd rather not, but there's no denying that the bro hugs they give him, the friendly pats on the back, the huge smiles; the party they throw for him, the girls they invite…they do feel nice.

It's something no one _ever_ did for _him_.

It's been five days already. Five days of getting back into the swing of being Matthew Sturridge, five days of endless nights spent drinking and clubbing, Jackson and Avery eager to make up for lost time. Five nights of hitting on anything in a skirt, five nights of lap dances from girls and strippers who have missed Matt _so_ much.

Tonight is even worse. The guys dragged him to a club owned by one of the girls who worked in their favorite place a few years ago. She does now have her own club – thanks to her rich husband slash ex-client's death – and reigns there like a bee queen, sending her girls to every man whose credit card score matches their ego. A gorgeous girl rolling her hips right under their nose or breathing in their ear is enough to make them spend so much money it's obscene, and nothing pleases Nalah more.

Well, nothing but seeing her _darling_ again.

"Oh, Matt, darling, you're back!", she yells so her voice can be heard above the chaos, the music pulsing so loud he knows he's gonna end up with a headache way before the end of the night. Nalah jumps in his not so open arms, hers wrapped so tightly around his neck she nearly strangles him. "God, no one tips better than you."

"So you've missed my money, not me, babe", he just says. He doesn't even need to say it harshly; his icy glare should be enough to scare her, make her take a step back.

But it only seems to make her tighten her hold. She only releases him when Avery clears his throat, reminding her that they're here too, and that they wouldn't mind a hug. She leads them to her best table in her VIP area, or so she says, but he does have to admit that it's rather nice. He can see the entire club from there, from the dance floor to the bar and to the entrance doors, and so he'll be able to spot Kensi when she comes in.

He could spot her in a crowded place, blind-folded, through a thick haze, just at her scent, anyway.

Nalah snaps her fingers, calling out for a pretty red-head wearing a dress so low-cut and clinging to her body that he doesn't even know if it's _legal_. The red, sparkling garment barely reaches her mid-thighs – and he's being pretty lenient, because, really, he can see her small panties when she bends over to kiss the guys on the cheek; and he doesn't miss Avery's hand landing on her butt, much to her amusement, if the loud, girly giggle she lets out is any indication.

"Mr. Sturridge is a _very_ important client, Nessa", Nalah tells her, and then she winks at him, her teeth digging into her glossy bottom lip. "Be a sweetheart with him. First round on the house, of course. You want _anything_, darling, you ask Nessa", she insists.

She leaves them, promising to come by later, and though Sturridge ogles Nessa from head to toe, Deeks only prays she's at least eighteen. He knows deep down that Nalah isn't stupid enough to risk hiring underage girls, but with her cute freckles and her dollish looks, Nessa seems so young. He's sure it's the reason why Nalah hired her in the first place; men do tend to like girls who look younger. It gives them power, he assumes; thinking that because they're young, they're at their mercy. Kind of a sick teacher/school girl relationship.

"So, what can I get you, Mr. Sturridge ?", she asks as she slowly comes closer and straddles his lap. She pushes down the sleeves of his jacket, taking it off, before her hands fly to his shirt, playing with the buttons. "Let me guess. A tall, strong man like you…", she starts, her voice barely a whisper against his ear, her hot breath fanning over, her tongue darting out to lick the shell. "Vodka. Am I right ?"

He thinks he might just get sick if he ever drinks a single sip again. Just like he may be the _only_ man on earth who is tired of girls being all over him – seriously, he doesn't know if he's scared or _terrified_ of how easily girls can turn into rapacious temptresses when they smell the fine scent of money. And the fact that Jackson and Avery introduce him as the nephew of the owner of a series of casinos and hotels in Vegas doesn't really help. It's the sixth night in a row now when his reputation precedes him, and when girls are oh so eager to do anything he might ask.

He's pretty sure that he wouldn't have to ask twice if he wanted to take this little chat to the next level in a more secluded area.

"Vodka would be nice. Find a girl for my boy Jackie here, will you ? Jackie, what do you want ?"

Jackson scans the room, eyeing appreciatively every woman in the club. His eyes finally land on a cute blonde-haired woman, sitting at the bar. "That one looks nice."

"God, no. No." He sighs. "Don't you ever listen to me ? Just look at her. She's a prude, it's obvious. She's trying to make it seem like she's some good girl gone bad, but I'll bet you she's a kindergarten teacher or something. She'll tease you, but you won't be getting any tonight. Trust me, man."

"You know Matt is always right", Avery laughs, patting him on the shoulder.

Nessa just presses herself more firmly onto his thigh, her hands oh so slowly dropping to his pants. But he catches her wrists quickly, trying to apply little pressure in order to not hurt her, but enough to make her retreat a little. "I'm still waiting for my drink."

She gets up and apologizes, and she even bows a little before walking to the bar, showing a hell lot of cleavage in the process. Avery gives him a proud look that says that he knows how to _train_ them, and he just smiles back with a short nod of his head.

Nessa is hardly back with their drinks when he sees her entering the club.

* * *

Her eyes land on him a few times, but he knows she hasn't recognized him yet. He has to admit she only saw him as Sturridge on picture, and that it's a lot different in _real_ life; particularly when he's wearing far smarter clothes than usual.

Matthew Sturridge is nothing like Marty Deeks, that much is very clear to anyone, but even more when it comes to his choice of clothing. Sturridge's shirts or suits come from the best clothing shops and even Hetty would be proud. His days as a lawyer are nothing compared to how meticulous and picky about his clothes and looks Matthew can get. He doesn't go out unless he looks like he's about to go to a photo shoot or the Fashion Week. He's vain and conceited and it's one of the reasons why Jackson, among others, _admires_ him. Matthew is everything they're not – he's a good-looking, almost droolable bad guy. He's got charm and style, and no one can resist him. He only has to ask once; but most of the time, he doesn't even need to. People give him what he wants even before he formulates the wish.

The perks of being a sick _but_ handsome bastard, maybe.

He has a hard time not staring at her, though. Because whoever she is tonight, she's damn hot. Screw the beauty he's used to see every day; he's introduced to sexy and sultry tonight. He watches her for a few minutes from the corner of his eye while talking with the guys – she dances and twirls with a few guys before heading to the bar, and he could just drown into the sight if Jackson didn't decide otherwise.

He doesn't need to turn his head to _know_ he's talking about her when he points at her through the crowded place. "God, can you see those legs, man ?"

God, it's been more than two years now, and he still can't help himself whenever she has to dress up for an op – be damned the kick in the groin she threatens him with every time, he still takes her in when it happens, his eyes roaming over her body shamelessly.

He turns his head anyway, and those legs he sees perfectly. Along with her perfect body, her every curve molding perfectly in her tight, hugging emerald green dress. It has tiny, glimmering straps, a deep V-neck and a slit up high her thigh, showing a lot more than he's ever seen. The dress is barely longer than Nessa's anyway, but those glimpses of her skin he can catch are just going to drive him crazy.

Crazy with need or desire he's not sure he can control, God help him.

He grins cockily at the guys, picks up his jacket and leaves a big tip for Nessa. As he gets up, he turns to Jackson. "Well, I think I'll be seeing a whole more of her by the end of the night. See you tomorrow, gentlemen."

Avery whistles loudly on his way out and gives him a thumb up. But he quickly loses interest in the show Matthew is gonna put on when Nessa comes back to their table with another round of shots and another waitress.

Matthew isn't one to beat around the bush. He doesn't ask her if she wants a drink or if she cares to dance. He just tugs at her waist, making her drop from her stool though the fall isn't that high since she's wearing scary high heels that allow her feet to touch the ground already.

The moment her eyes lock with his, _lust_ there he knows is reflecting in his own, he knows that if this wasn't an op, he'd just drag her to a corner and pin her to the wall. But right now, the look she gives him isn't directed to him, but to Sturridge – and she's not his partner, but just another girl Matthew is gonna have fun with.

He has to give her credit for getting perfectly into character. She doesn't flinch as one of his hands loops around her waist to pull her toward him and she doesn't let her surprise show as she takes in his appearance. Her eyes are desire-laden, circled with much heavier make-up than usual. Her lashes seem longer than ever, and she blinks them oh so slowly, the look she gives him from underneath matching her slightly parted lips, stuck in a frozen expression of what he can only describe as wanton need.

How he manages to walk them through the crowded dance floor to press her tightly between his body and a wall, he doesn't know. How he manages to stay calm and control his body, either. The only thing he can really focus on now is her gaze, and only now does he realize that something is very _wrong_.

Gone are the mismatched orbs he's used to and loves. She's wearing contacts, both her eyes now a deep and dark shade. He rationalizes his unease by thinking that her eyes are a distinctive mark that could be easily noticeable, but he can't help but resent the necessity.

He dips down to attack her neck, sucking quite roughly, while his hands busy themselves with toying with the hem of her dress. He hears her breathing growing heavy quickly and though it only speeds up Sturridge's actions, he still can't help but wish it would happen under other circumstances. Having Kensi go crazy with his touch would be so rewarding if it wasn't all an act.

"Ear wig ?", he mouths against her jaw, and she slowly shakes her head no. "Good. Out ?"

She nods, and his hand finds the bare skin of her back, leading her outside. The guy at the entrance wishes him good night with a very appreciative look to his charming company. "Hot stuff, man!"

He winks at him and his hand on her back just drifts lower until it's resting softly on her behind. She wraps an arm around his waist in response and tip-toes to reach his jaw, grazing her teeth there as she stumbles a bit, only to make his hold on her tighten.

They're just a few feet away from the club when she tries to open her mouth, but one look from him and she stops. Then, he looks around before dragging her to an alley, pushing her against the wall, far enough from the street so the dim light there makes them almost unnoticeable by passers-by.

And as his fingers find the soft flesh of her thigh, dangerously reaching up to the inside, she just can't seem to remember her own _name_ – the real one, or her alias's.

She has already thought about this moment – she _can't_ deny it. Whether it was at night when she'd fall asleep, the vivid picture of her partner still in mind, the very same partner who would then become the hero of her dreams; or sometimes during an op, when she'd catch him looking at her with those lust-filled eyes that he hardly tried to avert. Truth is, she has dreamt of it many times; the moment when his touch would leave her trembling, her lips shaking from the contact of his.

What she has wanted so badly, she finds hard to handle now.

Gone is the scruff she thought would graze her skin, the smooth pain exquisite, though she'll never admit to being turned on by it. Gone is the blonde, shaggy hair that she loves so much, the messy curls at the nape of his neck that she would love to thread her fingers into, softly tugging at it when his kisses would become just too much, her impatience and her want taking over. Gone is the salty scent she has come to associate with him, the ocean sinking sinfully into his skin and matching in those brilliant blue eyes of his.

Gone is everything she relates to _her_ Deeks. But right now, it's still his fingers on her. No cover can conceal that fact. It's _his_ _touch_ that makes her breathing grow labored, _his_ _fingers_ that come too close for comfort, making heat pool low in her belly.

She can say it's Matthew Sturridge all she wants, it's still Deeks. It's Deeks, her partner, who is leaving her trembling with just the simplest touch of his hand.

Her eyes go wide when she sees him leaning back just a little, his hands dropping to his pants. And the shiver that runs through her body as he opens the button and pulls down the zipper isn't only due to surprise, or fear, maybe; it's excitement. _Arousal_. She can't help herself, and her eyes follow his hands, staring openly right where she shouldn't.

His intentions get clearer as he lifts her up with no visible effort, hiking her dress just a bit higher up her legs. His strength shouldn't surprise her, because she did see him fight in that MMA gym; and though Sam will never admit it to his face, beating him wasn't this easy. But it still does; how easily he can lift her and pin her to the wall, pressing her body with his, no doubt possible about their activities from the outside.

She wraps her arms around his neck, hugging him closer with her legs around his waist. And when she can feel him in control – how can _he_ be, she wonders, as he starts rocking his hips forward, she just hopes and prays he won't notice just oh so far gone she is.

If the way she shudders when his tongue licks a wet path along her collarbone where he has bitten her earlier is any indication, then it's gonna be a long, long night.


	9. Chapter 9

**Writing with a baby balanced on one arm while the other cousins are watching **_**Tangled**_** ? Challenge accepted! And I won the award for 'Best Cousin Ever' (Mathilda, 4 years-old) for it, so everyone's winning! And you too, by the way, since I can write and update!**

* * *

His hot breath by her ear sends tingles through her entire body, a slight shiver she can't quite hide from him due to their current and way out of line position. His voice comes out as just a low whisper when he speaks. "Everything's okay ? You good ? Did you guys find anything ?"

Kensi gives him three short nods, unable to form words, or voice any coherent thought. "Good. How long are you there ?"

The only thing she knows _now_ is that she'd love nothing more than to stay here like this forever. She has always assumed that Deeks was a gentle guy; he keeps bragging about all his conquests, but deep down, she is sure he plays the romantic card more often than what he dares to admit. And maybe she'd love that more than what she says, she who doesn't go on second-dates and whom they all call the 'serial dater'. Sturridge isn't all sweet and low, but she thinks – or rather, she _feels_, because her brain is of no use right now, that she could definitely get used to it, to this side of Deeks. She knows they are two different men, but…

There's something about the idea of _him_ backing her up to a wall and ravishing her right there that has some sick hold on her. Deeks always gives in what she wants, always does what she needs, no questions asked. It's sweet and comforting, and she likes him for that. But seeing him be in charge for once… It does things to her she hadn't quite expected. Callen had told her that she might be his superior at NCIS, because he was just a cop and she was the fed, but that out there, she'd have to let him be in control. Because he knew what he was doing better than her, because he had experience she didn't. Callen told her that if Deeks said she had to run or hide or leave, she would have to do it; she had thought she'd hate that part. But, oh God if letting him be the one in control doesn't feel this bad after all.

He presses a much softer kiss than what Sturridge would, high on her cheekbone. The touch makes her open her eyes, embarrassment flushing her skin at letting him see this as his deep blue eyes lock with her wide dark ones. "You okay ? Did you hear me ?"

She struggles to find her voice, the lump in her throat so heavy she has to swallow hard a few times. "Yeah. I'm here all night", she finally croaks. "We may have a new lead."

"Another girl ?", he asks immediately, and for the second time in barely a minute, she sees her Deeks back. The intensity of his gaze, the shock barely veiled behind those midnight-blue eyes, lust-filled moments ago, now just wide open. She could get lost in the change of color, the shade ranging from cerulean to sky-blue in a matter of seconds.

She wants to reassure him, but footsteps in the street coming their way startle them. This time, she's the first one to react, though. She detangles her arms from his neck to wrap them under his arms and back, pressing him closer. She gives him a quick nod and leans her head back to the wall; Deeks, taking the hint, starts grinding into her again, his lips finding the hollow of her throat, dropping soft kisses, trailing a path to the tender flesh of her clavicle that he gently nips. Her breath catches at the softness, the previous heat and urge morphed into something that comes dangerously closer to what scares her so much. It's _him_ now, she has no doubt about this. He's trying to be more considerate, more gentle. And it's all kinds of mind-blowing, too.

Rough, quick and almost fast and furious, or caring and tender – it's just as good, if not better. Her skin is heating up by the minute, the tingles his touch causes spreading through her entire body, making her eager to return his every thrust, however superficial they are, restricted that they both are by the layers of their clothes. The little voice in her head is screaming that she _shouldn't_ feel that way; that she should be afraid or ashamed of how easily his hands on her can make her dream like a fool. Especially when he is, all in all, barely touching her – his lips dancing from her neck to her shoulder, his fingers squeezing her thighs, not daring to venture too far away. But here she is, trembling already.

They both hear the steps coming closer, stumbling heels of a probably drunk girl drumming on the ground. "Oh, this wall is already taken, babe", the slurry, deep voice of a man comes out in the dark. The steps come to a halt, and Deeks turns his head to catch a glimpse of a tall man gripping a girl by the waist, loud giggles escaping her visibly too glossy lips. "Sorry, man."

Deeks just grunts back, watching the couple leave the alley, a sick feeling in his stomach when he realizes that the man could easily be the girl's father. God, is there still a girl with no daddy issues in this city ?

He waits a couple minutes until the street is silent again. He turns again to Kensi, finally noticing in spite of the darkness the fierce blush creeping up her skin. He slowly releases his hold on her, his fingers detangling from the soft flesh of her thighs, and he pulls her back to the ground. In a gesture that surprises her even more than everything else that happened since she has joined him in the club, he tugs down on her dress, pulling it back down on her legs and rearranges the straps on her shoulders. He's about to take off his jacket when her hands on his chest stop him.

"This isn't _you_", she warns him. She keeps her hands on his chest, firmly fisting his shirt in order to keep them from going lower where his zipper is still down, his belt unbuckled.

"I won't be getting any – _more_, if my girl freezes to death before reaching my place", he just says, his voice sharper than usual. It's like Sturridge could twist anything until it sounds harsh and dirty. It's not an entirely different voice, but still, the warm tone and intonations of her partner are gone.

He takes off his jacket and pulls it around her shoulders, his hands then zipping up his pants. "I'm taking you home", he adds, his tone a bit closer to normal. "This isn't the best place to talk."

"Won't the guys be a bit suspicious ?"

"Well, you _passed_ the test. If you're good enough up against the wall, you _deserve_ to be brought home for further activities." He stares at a point above her shoulder, avoiding her gaze. "Look, if you wanna talk here, that's fine. But –"

"No. Take me home."

He leads her back to the street, one arm looped around her waist, his hand dipping in the back of her dress. He casts one last look to the club where people are heading in as others are coming out with their flavor of the night.

"I don't live far. My apartment is barely a block away", he tells her. After a short while, they turn in a corner, finding themselves in an empty street. "Your feet can handle it ?", he asks. "Those shoes must hurt like hell."

She does wince slightly with every step she makes. "Don't. If someone hears you…"

He tugs softly at her arm, stopping her. "There's no one else", he says in a low voice, though, turning her around. "I could just carry you. You know, it would look like I'm so in a hurry I can't wait."

Kensi turns again to face him, her hands gripping his belt. "No unnecessary risks", she whispers. Even with her high heels, she's still not as tall as him, so she loops one arm around his neck, pulling his face down. She captures the shell of his ear between her teeth, tugging lightly. "The more you talk, the less credible you appear. My dress should already be pooling somewhere on your bedroom floor. Just take me home, don't worry."

She mouths his jaw one last time before leaning back, her hands still on his belt. She tugs at his pants to make him move, and a few minutes later, they're climbing the stairs leading to his apartment. She has trouble hiding her surprise as she sees the building, though she should have expected it. Matthew has been raised by his uncle who is the head of several bars and restaurants in Vegas, and he's spent his teen years between hotel rooms and casinos, playing poker and black jack or slipping under girl after girl's covers. So it shouldn't come as a surprise that he would live in an apartment like this.

The guy does have _swagger_.

* * *

Her eyes widen as he drags her inside, taking in every last bit of furniture, from the black leather set of recliner and couch to the flat screen TV hanging on the wall. She doesn't even notice Deeks running from room to room, examining every little detail there, shutting the blinds and locking the door, until he stops right in front of her.

His fingers fly to her throat, gently soothing the skin of her neck. "God, Kens, I'm so sorry."

It takes her a few seconds to understand, but then the slow motion of his fingers brushing his bite marks dawns on her. "It's nothing. It's just a hickey, Deeks."

"Still. I shouldn't have bitten that hard."

She dismisses him with a wave of her hand, freeing herself from his gentle hold. The last thing she wants to do, really. She walks to the couch, dropping his jacket there and slumping onto it, unclasping the straps of her shoes. "God, that feels good."

He watches her from the entrance, his eyes still showing uncertainty and doubt about her answer. Kensi sighs, patting the spot beside her. "It's okay. Don't start apologizing for everything you'll do or we will never be done. Are _you_ okay ?"

His automatic answer is met by a glare. "I'm fine."

"I know you, Deeks. Partying and drinking _aren't_ your idea of fun. Tell me the truth."

It's his turn to sigh. He drops his head on the back of the couch, and Kensi tucks a leg underneath her, turning to observe him. He breathes deeply a couple times before speaking again. "I hang out with the guys. We go out, we flirt with girls, we drink. They get high sometimes but Matthew doesn't, and they're okay with it because they know he likes to be at the top of his game when he brings a girl home and it's complicated when you do drugs. Since Jackson can't get a girl unless Matthew finds him one, and Avery is the kind of pig who could pay so the girl does everything and he just has to sit there, none of them will ever say a thing. Matthew drinks hard, anyway. It's cool, apparently."

He chuckles, closing his eyes, and brings a hand to his face, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "So far, I've got nothing. We've spent the last few days partying and meeting with old 'friends', people who have heard about Matthew and like what he does. But we're supposed to meet with a guy tomorrow; that could be a lead. Avery told me that he knew fantastic girls…girls _I_ would love."

He doesn't add much more, but with everything she knows about Matthew's tastes, she has no doubt that those girls would be no different from the waitresses/escorts she saw at the club earlier.

He doesn't speak for a few minutes, his eyes still closed, and Kensi makes the most of it to really look at him. In the crowded club and in that dark alley, she didn't get time to do so. Now she can see that he's wearing clothes far more expensive than what he could afford, his dark suit tailor-made, and his dress deep blue shirt clinging to his chiseled chest and muscled arms, loosely unbuttoned at the top. Gone is his watch, so alike hers, to be replaced with a large, golden one, probably costing as much as his entire outfit.

She has already seen him in a suit a few times. And, _sure_, the guy does know how to wear them, but he doesn't really like it. He can't knot a tie for the life of him, and he always says that the waist coat and the shirt tucked in the pants make him feel like he's in a noose. His shaggy hair never matches his outfit, and once an op is over, he's the first one to change and go back to his own clothes, even before Kensi although she always ends the day with hurt feet because of the shoes Hetty make her wear.

But right now, she just can't picture him with one of his plaids shirts and a pair of faded jeans. With his hair shorter and _brushed_, the brown shade reminding her of her own, and his face shaven, he looks like any businessman, and she has no trouble understanding why he climbed easily every step of the ladder when he was working for the cartel. He looks just as smart as he is, and she can easily imagine every woman gushing over him, guys clapping on his back and finding his cockiness really useful. From his notes that she has spent hours flicking through with Eric and Nell, he used his days as a lawyer to his advantage back then, Matthew being a smart-mouth kid, able to twist and turn everything people tell him to convince them to do what he wants.

She takes a look at his place, too. She's used to the warmth of his apartment, the place all so familiar to her now, oddly neat in comparison to hers. She's used to Monty chewing on everything, and Deeks running after him. She's not been there so many times, but it had felt like home ever since the first time she had stepped in. She still laughs when she sees his painting of dogs playing poker, and flicks through his comic books every once in a while. But Matthew's place is the exact opposite. It shows his wealth, but has no personal effects in there. It's the kind of place meant to impress people, showing the girls he brings there that they're not just in anyone's hands.

She can't begin to imagine how he manages to live there. It's so far away from the beach, and a guy like Matthew definitely wouldn't go anywhere near a surfboard, anyway. She smiles though, thinking that he must be happy that Monty is at least in good hands. Sam had surprisingly suggested taking him with him, claiming that his daughter had been pestering them for months to have a dog, and that bringing Monty home would be a good training for her – or, more precisely, he hoped it would discourage her. Kensi had taken it like a silent sign of support, and she hoped Deeks saw it like it was too.

She lifts a hand, softly touching his arm. Deeks opens his eyes, staring back at her. There's so many things she wants to say or ask, especially why he didn't feel the need to call them – her. But she goes with the simplest, for now. "How can LAPD afford a place like this ? And Matthew's lifestyle ?"

The frown on his face tells her it wasn't the easiest question, like she reckoned. "Well…Actually, this place is mine."

She gasps. She looks around once more, mentally counting how much everything must cost. "My step-dad bought it for me", he says, interrupting her train of thoughts. "He wanted me to have my own place after I graduated. He rented it while I was in college, but then, he gave me the keys after I got my law degree. My mom would have wanted to keep me home with her forever, but he knew better. He'd been young once, too, after all."

"Then why don't you live here ?"

"It's too far away from the beach", he laughs lightly. "I've barely lived there a couple months anyway, before Tom…After that, I rented the place again. But when I started undercover with LAPD, I thought we could use it as a safe house, or a cover house. The furniture ?", he adds, gesturing all over the room, "Courtesy of LAPD. Doing your job has its advantages. The clothes ? Back from my days at law school. Except from this shirt. Hetty."

Of course. Leave it to Hetty to choose a shirt that goes so well with his eyes it makes her drool all over him. "Why did you never tell me ?"

He frowns, surprised by the emotions that flick through her gaze. "What is there to tell ? It's not like I own the entire building. Tom bought it for me because he really felt like I was his son. He wanted me to have something, someday, until I made my own money."

"Sorry. It's not my place to say a thing about hiding stuff", she apologizes, but he raises a hand, telling her she can let it go.

"Anyway, what do you guys have ?", he asks, taking the conversation back to the case. He knows that every minute they spend being them will make it harder to go back to their aliases, and it's no time to share secrets and stories of his past.

"Another woman has nearly been abducted, but she's safe now", she quickly adds. "We weren't sure the cases were linked until we got the results from the lab. She's been drugged with GHB mixed with something else, they still don't know exactly. Enough to make you dizzy barely seconds after taking it, anyway. The guys thought you could ask your friends if they know where you can get stuff like this. We think that they've been improving their stuff. We found GHB in the victims' blood, but it's stronger."

"Did the woman say anything ?"

"Apparently, a guy came to see her at the beach. He told her she was beautiful and that he was a photographer, and that he worked with models. He asked her if she'd be interested. She was tempted, but she told me she asked to see his card or website first. He showed her his book so she agreed, and he bought her a drink to celebrate. The girl at the stand saw that she was dizzy after drinking, but the man said he would take care of her. She's only still there because a lifeguard didn't buy it."

He sighs again, his hand lifting to his face, his old habit of rubbing his hand against his scruff still there, though the scruff isn't anymore. "God, how can women still follow blindly a stranger ? You should never go anywhere alone with a stranger for God's sakes!"

She puts her hand to his knee, squeezing lightly. "I know. But she's safe now. She gave us a description of the guy, Eric and Nell have been running it through kaleidoscope for hours. If the guy is in our data, they'll find him. LAPD is helping too."

He looks at her, his blue eyes clouded with the doubt she knows he feels. The frustration, too. It's like it never ends; when they take down a bad guy, another rises, and on and on. His voice is low, tired, when he speaks. "Could you take those contacts off, please ? It's been disturbing me since earlier."

"I'm gonna change anyway", she tells him, getting up, heading to a first door, peeking inside to reveal his bedroom. "Can I borrow a tee or something ?"

"Matt isn't really the type to lazy around in sweat pants, but I may have shirts more comfortable than this one", he replies, tugging at his own shirt. "Do the guys know you're staying here ?"

"Yep. Callen dropped me earlier, and Nell is supposed to pick me up on her way to OSP tomorrow morning. She doesn't live that far. We'll meet a few blocks away from here."

She disappears in the bathroom, and as the sound of water running can be heard, Deeks gets up to check if every door or window is closed. After that, he shuts all the lights out and heads to his bedroom, undressing and folding his clothes on a chair nearby. He takes in his appearance in the large mirror, running a hand through his unusually brown hair, the curls and locks tame for once. Only the hair at the nape of his neck and the few locks falling in front if his eyes are still a bit curly, but definitely not as much as what everyone is used to. He knows it's just hair, and that it'll grow again, just like his beard, but he hates it. It reminds him of his dad who kept complaining because he had inherited his mom's curly blond hair. How many times had he said that he looked more like a little girl than a real man, he can't keep count. But he still remembers clearly the day his father took a pair of scissors and cut it all, leaving him with hair almost as short as Callen's. After that, his mom decided to get him to have a haircut every once in a while. The first thing he had done after his father went to jail was to tell her he wouldn't go to the hairdresser ever again.

It's just hair. Just like Kensi's eyes are just eyes, unique, maybe, but only eyes. But seeing her with contacts was just a disguise he couldn't accept, her eyes having always been his favorite thing about her.

Kensi comes out of the bathroom, freshly showered, her face clean of any trace of her heavy make-up. She's wearing one of the simplest shirts he owns, a white one he already wore at work once. He can catch a glimpse of her black underwear, the garment kind of see-through on her still damp skin, and he has to look away in order to not stare at her like an idiot.

She crawls under the covers and he joins her, just as hesitantly as the night he spent with her at her place. She gives him all the other little details she forgot, and he asks her how things are going without him – never really daring to ask her directly if she's okay out there, alone, with no partner, without him.

He doesn't need to. As he's just about to close his eyes, she curls up to his side, and her breath tickles his naked chest as she speaks. "Don't ever do that to me again. You had to go and I accepted it. But next time you don't call at least once, I kill you. Are we clear ?"

"Sorry. Got it clear, ma'am. I've missed you, too."

He can feel her rolling her eyes. But during the night, her arm snakes around him, and he reckons it's better than any word.


	10. Chapter 10

**Sorry for the shortness of the chapter compared to the two previous ones. My cousins are really demanding and I'm just plain exhausted. We're definitely moving to the darker part, the undercover op, and it's quite hard to write, so please bear with the time it takes me to write it. I don't have the energy necessary, but I try my best. Hope you'll like this piece.**

* * *

Kensi wakes up in the middle of the night, startled by an unpleasant feeling she can't quite describe. It takes her a whole minute to take in her surroundings, from the unfamiliar shirt she's wearing to the soft, silk sheets she's tucked in. The room is plunged into darkness, no ray of light beaming through the blinds. She reaches haphazardly, patting around her until she finds the nightstand, and is surprised to not find her watch there.

And then she remembers that she isn't home. But, most of all, it's only now that she notices that the warm body that she has come to snuggle up to during the night isn't lying on the left side anymore.

She gets up and finally finds the switch of the light, and she takes a better look at the room she only caught a glimpse of before going to bed. Just like the rest of the apartment, it's oddly impersonal: there's a huge king-sized bed, nightstands on each side, a wardrobe full of designer clothes, a desk and a laptop. No signs of photos or anything that could tell a bit more about Matthew Sturridge – and weirdly, it gets to her, because she's used to those ridiculous pictures of her on the beach that Deeks keeps religiously in his bedroom back at his place. But then again, she shouldn't be surprised, because that's how Matthew has been raised; he has been leading a nomadic life ever since he was fourteen. He doesn't really take time to settle somewhere, because he will leave the instant he doesn't find it fun anymore.

She has never given so many thoughts to an alias; but Deeks, on the other hand, almost psychoanalyzed the guy in his notes. She had felt like reading his autobiography, and for a minute, she hadn't been able to help the little pang in her heart at knowing this guy better than her partner.

Kensi rearranges her shirt and opens the door, leaving the room. She lets out a breath she didn't even know she was holding when she sees him there, still clad in his boxers, and she can't quite help the appreciative look she gives his backside. He's leaning arms crossed over the open window, a view on the street behind the building, staring at the night sky.

"You never see the stars from here", he says without turning back to look at her, his soft voice breaking the silence. "Too many lights."

"You say that to all the girls you bring here ?", she teases, walking to him. "Playing the romantic card once they're in your bed, that's original."

He tilts his head to her, his tired features beaming under the moonlight. He gives her a small smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. Without thinking, she reaches up with her hand, gently brushing the tips of her fingers to his jaw.

"This isn't you", he laughs quietly, but still, he leans into her touch.

She smiles back and drops her hand to his side, lifting his arm, and she comes to snuggle closer. "Well, what can I say ? I can't resist the puppy look."

He hugs her close, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. "Last time I gave you the puppy look, you dislocated my finger." When she doesn't answer, he decides not to press for once, and just enjoys her warmth sinking into his side, the feel of _her_. No more intoxicating perfume, no make-up, no sultry smile. Just her. "We can't have that, you know", he quietly whispers.

She understands immediately and stiffens. Still, she asks. "What do you mean ?"

He sighs, now staring back at the sky. His hand traces her arm, rubbing slowly up and down, feeling the goose bumps there, from the cold air coming from outside or his touch, he doesn't know. "Being _us_. Well, these softer, incredibly cheesy versions of us. It's not safe. It'll be harder tomorrow if we afford it."

"Is that why you're up in the middle of the night ?"

It's only one of the reasons, the other being his incapacity to fall asleep when her hand searches for him and her arm wraps itself around him, her sweet scent and her steady breathing fanning over his skin. And sleeping on the left side didn't help either. But he knew she couldn't sleep unless she was on the right side, and he figured he could spend a sleepless night for once, because the next few days or weeks are gonna be harder for her than him.

_He_, at least, knows what is awaiting them; _she_ has no idea. He's used to being Matt, even though he hates every single second of it. He's used to feeling dirty, guilt overwhelming him with every guy he punches, every girl he flirts with. He has spent so many years repeating this mantra in his head, that he's doing it for the greater good and that somehow, it makes it okay to be who he has to be. She doesn't know this life, and God if he would want her to never get used to it.

Kensi doesn't know what it's like to navigate in Matt Sturridge's sphere. She has no real idea of how he treats women, how he'll have to treat her too. She who is so used to being the dominant one, will have to deal with being nothing more than a pair of breasts and a fine piece of ass. The idea only makes him sick. With any other woman, he could deal with it; he'd still hate himself for it, but at least he would never get to see them again. But with her ? He's already worrying over what it's gonna be like for the two of them once it's over.

How many times has he dreamt of kissing her, or just having the right to touch her, stroke her skin, smooth her hair ? And now he gets to do it, he wishes he didn't have to. Not this way, not under those circumstances. It's even worse than waiting for something for so long and when you get it, it takes your breath away; it's worse because he knows that there are no do-overs in life. If he ever gets the chance to have her again, he won't be able to forget and erase it.

Forget that he's gonna use her as nothing more than eye-candy, the girl his buddies will only see as the naughty one who keeps him entertained at night – the girl they'll talk about everything in front of because they'll think she has no brain. Jackson and Avery know that Matt only look for meaningless relationships about fun and sex; they think it's pretty normal. They are all three handsome young men, and they reckon that life has to be spent thoroughly.

He'd trade his good looks and wit and charm with almost anything right now, if that could mean he didn't have to do this to her.

* * *

"Deeks ?", Kensi asks tentatively, looping one arm around his back. She feels the slight tremor running through his body as his hand on her arm slows down. "Does that mean you're letting me in ? That I'm doing this, with you ?"

Deeks' quiet laugh unsettles her. She turns more fully to face him, her hand still stroking his back, and his around her drops to her shoulder, palm open. He lifts his free hand to her other shoulder and squeezes lightly, his eyes locking with hers. For the first time, they're not haunted or worried, but just calm blue. A look she has missed _much_, much more than what she would've ever thought. "Since when does Kensi Blye ask for _my_ permission ?"

She doesn't like it, that much is clear. She has never been one to submit or obey easily. But orders are orders, and though she hates to admit it – hell, even acknowledge it to herself, there are things he is better at than her. Standing still when she can feel her knees start to buckle under his touch and intense gaze, among other things. "Since Callen said you're the boss."

He takes a few seconds to ponder it – contemplates the idea of teasing her and enjoying the simple thought of having the right to boss her around under Callen's orders. But then he decides otherwise. He makes the mistake of letting his eyes roam over her, and where his eyes go, his hands follow. Deeks softly rubs his hands down her arms, feeling the trail of goose bumps appearing there through the sleeves; then he traces a path to her fingers, taking her hands in his, his thumbs absent-mindedly stroking the inside of her wrists. He doesn't miss the quick race of her pulse point, nor do the sharp intakes of breath she takes go unnoticed by him.

He knows those are oddly intimate touches, especially considering all these layers of walls and defenses Kensi has always built up around her; those boundaries they are supposed to have set on common agreement, though none of them really ever respects them. Mostly, he knows that his _partner_ would never let him touch her like this.

But maybe they are just a little more than partners right now, just before the crack of dawn. Something caught in between friends and that thing they never define and deny with all they have, the deep of night making it somehow okay – getting closer, letting the walls crumble oh so slowly, revealing what they've been hiding for so long.

He takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of his body wash and shampoo mixed with her sweet aroma in the process. Like he needed this. "So…", he starts, and they both look down at their linked hands. "If I said I didn't want you there – couldn't have you there, would you listen and stay away ?"

Though she expected it, she can't say it doesn't hurt all the same. "_Yes_. If you have a good reason."

"I don't want to hurt you."

She replies in a whisper, her quiet voice barely reaching his ears, so he has to focus on her lips – really ? Someone must really hate him somewhere over the rainbow. "_You_ wouldn't. It's all an act, you know. I don't like it, you don't like it, but we have to do it. I won't resent you for anything you have to do. Just – you think I can't handle it –"

He interrupts her, his fingers squeezing hers, the pressure enough to make her look up again, locking eyes with him. "I don't doubt you. I doubt me. I – I'm the one I'm not 100% sure of. I can't do that to _you_."

"Let's train, then."

Deeks looks at her with wide eyes, his cerulean orbs clear with surprise. Kensi disentangles her hands from his hold and steps back, opening the first few buttons of her shirt in the process. She is reaching the one that will uncover her chest for him to see when he comes out of his trance.

"What – what are you doing ?"

She finishes unbuttoning his shirt and he looks away, trying hard to remember all those fat ladies at the pool back to when he was a lifeguard to keep it cool. "You think we can't handle it. You think I don't know what I'm signing for, and you're not sure we can make it real. Teach me what it's like to be Matt's new… _What_ am I, exactly ?", she asks him, genuinely wondering. "I mean, I've read your notes – I know Matt doesn't have such a high esteem of women. But am I your girlfriend, or just the girl you screw over being screwed by life ?"

Biting the inside of his cheek, his eyes still resolutely staring at the ceiling, he lets out her name as almost a desperate plea. "Kens…"

"_Bianca_. My name's Bianca", she cuts him off. "And you know, it's pretty insulting that you can't seem to bring yourself to look at the girl you're supposed to have spent a fantastic night with."

"Would you just stop with this ?", he pleads again, not caring in the slightest about how weak he sounds. "I never said you could stay in the first place."

She puts her hands on her hips, the usual, universal feminine gesture of annoyance making her even sexier, if possible. "If you think we're gonna let you do this alone, you're very wrong. I'm your partner. What makes you think that I'm gonna let you do this by yourself ?"

She chose her words very carefully, and they both know that these 'trusting someone else' issues will be their downfall someday – just like their bad habit of thinking they can do about everything alone. When he doesn't answer, too stunned, she goes on. "If it's not me, you know it'll be Callen or Sam. But look me in the eye and tell me it wouldn't be easier with me. Tell me a hot girl isn't enough to make about anyone talk."

"You're not just a hot girl, Kens."

She blushes softly. "Thanks. Maybe you're right. But Bianca is. Bianca's only assets in life are her good looks. No one will dare touch her if she's your girl, and it'll give her opportunities to have eyes and ears everywhere. You know it'll be easier that way."

Kensi walks to him again, and this time, she hooks her fingers in the hem of his boxers, pulling him closer. "As of tomorrow, I'll be the girl who is so good in bed you contemplate the idea of seeing her again. No one will buy it if you keep thinking that it's me and that you shouldn't look at me that away. I won't resent you, because this won't be you. Matt and Bianca, no Deeks and Kensi."

He gulps hard, but still, he holds her gaze for a minute before slowly letting his eyes drift south. He tries to rationalize that he's already seen her once in her bra, but this time is oh so different. It's so far away from seeing her in a sport bra at the gym, or with that functional bra she was wearing the day she was shot – lingerie and its inventor be damned, for his sake.

It's just lace, but it's lace and Kensi, and that makes all the difference in the world. In this instant, he wishes he could be the little offending piece of cloth hanging to her body, the strapless garment hugging and pushing up these incredible assets perfectly. And if he's gonna end up in Hell, he might as well go for a good reason, so he follows his path down the valley of her breasts, her toned stomach, to end up on those tiny panties that barely cover a thing.

"That's… That's nice", he croaks, his arms hanging by his sides, but dying to reach and touch. "Interesting."

"God, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you find me repulsive, Deeks", she teases him. The tremor in her voice doesn't go unnoticed by any of them, though. "Matt slept with Bianca, okay ? Twice in one night – at least. She has to be naughty enough for him to go for it again, so, please, tell me you can do better than _nice_."

"Are you sure you really want to be a part of this ? I could meet with you guys more often if needed. I'll text more, let you know anything I find out. You don't need to be there."

"You're here, right ?", she asks rhetorically. "_So am I_. End of discussion. So, now, here's your choice: either you help me get in character, or you take the risk of having me slip or make a mistake because you're too worried to let me help you."

Her tone is soft despite the accusation. It's not even one, really – she doesn't hate it as much as she thought she would. His concern, his need to protect her. "I _know_ you know I don't need to be saved", she goes on, her hands going up again, and settling palm open on his chest. "But I do appreciate the thought behind. I worry about you, too. And I would want nothing more than to keep you safe, with me. With us, back at OSP. Where you _belong_. You belong with me, Deeks." She bites down on her bottom lip, wetness gathering in her eyes at the admission; a bit of embarrassment mixed up with the feeling of a heavy weight being lifted off her chest at the same time. "You're supposed to be my shadow, and I'm yours. You have my back, and so do I. So, if you're here, I'm here. It's _us_ against _them_, okay ? It's our job, that's what we do, whether we like it or not. But…it's more tolerable if we're together."

He examines her face, searching for any hint of doubt, any trace of something he could use to convince her to walk back while she can. But he finds none. There's just resolution in her eyes, along with a softness he has never witnessed directed at him. A shy, genuine smile graces her lips, and the feel of her warm hands on his skin just makes him want to crawl back in bed with her and never let her go.

But this isn't why they're here.

And they're not even themselves.

So he sighs, and with a nod, he confirms that she's won. "Okay, I surrender. You're in."


	11. Chapter 11

**I divided this chapter in two parts. I'll post the second one as soon as I've written it, and hopefully I'll be able to by Saturday. That said, hope you enjoy this one for now. I'm now on Twitter, as ZBBZL too.**

* * *

He tries to hide it well, but still, she can spot the tiniest hint of joy behind his schooled features. Sure, he's not happy to bring her into an op that both disgusts him and makes him worry over her safety; but none of them can deny how _good_ it feels to be together again.

She would have never thought a year ago that she would ever say this – hell, even only admit it to herself. But these last six days have been utter hell: driving to his place, so used to them carpooling, only to remember once she'd be there that he _wasn't_; spending hours waiting for a call, only to go home with _no_ news of him. If someone had told her she'd miss Marty Deeks or wouldn't be able to take her mind off him, she would have snorted and laughed that terrifying laugh he loves to tease her about.

But being proven wrong had never felt _so_ right. There's nothing she _should_ loathe more than this; for someone who needs to be in control just as much as she does, there shouldn't be any room for doubt and mistakes. But like so many other things, her partner seemed to be the exception to her every rule.

Gone from her dreams was the dark-haired and squared jaw, tall Marine, perfect replica of her own father, to be replaced with a shaggy, scruffy blonde-haired surfer. The beach was now her new favorite place on earth, she who had been used to military bases or hiking. God, she had even grown to be a dog person. Mangy mutts had wormed their way into her heart, settling in for good.

She should be afraid of needing him and wanting him by her side so much, but she isn't. It feels so damn good that it _has_ to be right. And if it isn't, then she's done doing the right thing. Rules be damned; orders, too. NCIS, LAPD; Hetty, Bates… She has followed them for too long, careful not to step out of the lines that _have_ to be drawn, the boundaries that _should_ exist. She's been giving up on people and her desires for pretty much her entire adult life; she's _tired_, now.

There's so much someone can handle before exploding.

Six days without him, and she's ready to throw away everything that may keep them apart again. Take down any obstacle, disobey any order; and if his small smile is any indication, she's pretty sure that he would do the same. And God if this fact isn't enough to make the worry, the concern, the anguish – every _damn_ feeling that has been overwhelming her ever since she has met him, really – totally worth it.

"So… You think we belong together, huh ?", he teases, breaking the silence between them. Silence isn't _safe_, they both know it; it always compels people to say more, fill it with things they wouldn't usually say. "God, I wish we could record this. Where are ear wigs and nosey techs when you need them ?"

She digs her nails into his skin, but ever so gently they both know it can't hurt. She just does it for good measure, because that's what is _supposed_ to follow their banter; he teases her and she punches him, he flirts with her and she throws another joke back. That's what they do.

They do not stand wrapped in each other's personal space. She does not let her hands linger on his bare chest longer than needed, the feeling of his skin and muscles heavenly under her shaky palms. He does not struggle to wrap his own arms around her and take her to bed.

No. No, they don't. Definitely not.

She's not about to hug him, and he's not going to hug her back. But enjoying the other's warmth for a few minutes is _allowed_ – it doesn't have to mean a thing. It doesn't have to be talked about, repeated, said to the others; they don't have to ever mention it again. It feels good, it may be very much needed; and it's only about them and this moment.

She slowly lets go as she leans back, stepping out of his embrace. And the moment is gone – not the little gleam in her eyes, nor the smile tugging at his lips, though. "Can we continue this in bed ?", she asks. She immediately regrets it – or at least, her _brain_ does, when one of his eyebrows rises up, a cocky smirk stretching his lips.

And though the little voice in her head is yelling at the top of its imaginary little lungs, telling her she should say something, tease back, or even wipe that arrogant grin off his face with a right hook, she doesn't do a thing. Because she can't help but stare at those lips, how the right corner twitches slightly, or those eyes, sky blue a moment ago, and now a deeper shade. Stormy, but not with concern or fear; it's a look she has seen before.

When she would put on a sexy dress for an op.

She's used to it; God, she has seen it so many times it shouldn't do a thing to her. But it does. Every single damn time. He just has to smile, one of those damn seductive smiles she just can't get enough of, and she's so far gone. He just has to lay his eyes on her, let them wander for a few seconds, and she feels like she's the prettiest girl even if she has blood on her face.

It's even more powerful when she's only wearing his _unbuttoned_ shirt. His eyes on her feel too much all of a sudden – not because he's unashamedly staring at her from head to toe, but because she _likes_ it. The burning fire spreading over her body, settling low on her belly, is getting harder and harder to control.

Kensi crosses her arms over her chest and _tries_ to glare at him, but fails miserably. Her voice doesn't even sound convincing to herself as she speaks. "I meant, can we go back to bed, as in sleeping ? Someone has to wake up early tomorrow – later, to go to work, remember ?"

His smirk doesn't do any good to the heat pooling inside her; it just adds fuel to a fire that _definitely_ doesn't need any help. "Okay, yeah, whatever. I know why you came here, _Bianca_. And I'm pretty sure it doesn't involve playing Scrabble. Though –"

Deeks doesn't even finish his sentence, because the sight of Kensi rolling her eyes is his biggest victory. He follows her back to his bedroom, ogling her behind with no moderation – and God if Matt Sturridge has _never_ scored such a hot girl. As she's about to crawl back under the sheets, he beats her to the bed and tries to take the right side, just for the sake of getting on her nerves.

The task does reveal itself being much harder than he thought. Bianca might be a giggling, _defenseless_ girl, but his Kensi is still there. She struggles against his hold on her waist and pushes on his shoulders to get him off of her; but in the end, he lifts her effortlessly off the floor and drops her quite unceremoniously on the left side.

"I – I'm so gonna make you pay", she threatens him through panting breaths as she sits up and watches him lying on the right side, arms behind his head. "Those infamous bite marks on your neck, yeah ? There's gonna be blood, trust me."

"Oh, but you don't want to do that, baby doll", he coos, lifting a hand to tuck a lost tendril behind her ear. He pinches her cheek like he would do with a little kid. "It's no way to treat the man with whom you've spent the _best_ night of your entire life."

"Oh. Arrogant much, are we ? That's one thing you and Matt have in common." Her tone is teasing, and she's relieved to see he notices it; comparing him to Matthew, telling him they're somehow alike, however small the resemblance might be, is definitely something she'd never do. Deeks is too cocky for his own good, but she has to admit that he has reasons to be – God if she herself doesn't dig the blond hair and those ocean eyes she could drown in all day long.

"It's not bragging when you say the truth", he simply says. Then he extends his arm on her pillow and crooks a finger of his free hand, beckoning her to come closer. "Come on, I'm willing to share the right side. Like you said, we're supposed to have spent the night together. Don't be shy, baby doll."

"Do you really have to call me baby doll all the time ? _Really_ ?" Still, she lies down close to him, closer than what she would in daylight, her head resting on his arm. "You're usually a bit more creative."

"Baby doll is fine", he says, his fingers playing with the ends of her hair. "Princess is too nice, it implies that I respect you and want to treat you like one. Sugarbear or honey or sweetie are too sugary. Babe and baby doll are just fine. I could still call you hot stuff, if you prefer."

"Baby doll it is, then", Kensi sighs. They both lie there in a quiet silence for a few minutes, his hand lazily going from her hair to her shoulder, just as if it were the most natural thing to do for the both of them. But she can almost hear the struggle going on in this troubled mind of his. "What is it, Deeks ? What's wrong ? I've won but it doesn't feel like I did."

His hand stops its motion, his fingers now lightly curled around her arm. "It's nothing. I was just thinking that I'm gonna have to come up with some story to tell the guys. About how good in bed you are", he quickly adds. "They're gonna ask. They _always_ ask."

"You can tell them I'm flexible. Tell them I'm a dancer. Oh, better, tell them I'm a stripper."

He opens his mouth, a smart comment on the tip of his tongue, but he quickly drops it. And if she could see his eyes right now, she'd know that some dirty, really unprofessional thoughts did just cross his mind; thoughts that are hard to fight against, especially when she's basically in his arms. Basically almost naked, too.

"Flexible. Okay. Riddle me this, though: is it like those internet pictures, something you just came up with, or did someone compliment you about it ?"

She nudges him with her elbow, and he winces just to please her. "Goodnight, Deeks."

Kensi curls up to him, her knees bent to her chest, her head still on his arm. She closes her eyes, her breathing gradually slowing down, until it just comes out as steady intakes fanning over his chest. They will still have time to talk later, and plan all the details of her joining him.

He watches her for a few minutes and brushes her hair away from her face. His voice comes out as a whisper when he speaks again, so low that he barely hears the words himself. "Why can't it always be like this between us ?"

Kensi's light snore is the only answer he gets. And within minutes, he's off to sleep too.

* * *

Kensi's hand is curled around the door handle, but still, she can't seem to bring herself to open it. They have discussed all the details, there's no flaw in their plan. Bianca will show up at the club tonight, even though Matt won't be there, to get a little more exposure, just in case. And tomorrow, Matt and his boys will come by, and they'll meet again. It won't keep him from flirting with other women, though; Matt Sturridge isn't one to apply fidelity.

LAPD will be ready to intervene tonight during his meeting, though Deeks thinks it's not necessary. Matt is supposed to meet the man in a club for casual chat and drinks. Esteban Marquez is the nephew of the man for whom Matt worked before the cartel was taken down, and he has in good authority that Matt's work was very much appreciated. Avery and Jackson told him he was glad to hear that he was back in town, and though they might only have been talking about strippers when they said that he did know great girls, it's still a lead.

Still, Kensi can't help the worry that creeps up and toys with her mind. Deeks always criticizes her for her stubbornness, but she can't get why he doesn't want the team to be there too. "Are you sure you don't want us to be there ?", she asks for the millionth time.

"Don't worry, Fern. It's gonna be just fine. You know, outside LAPD and NCIS, most people appreciate me. I'm a charming guy." He gives her one of his self-called dazzling smiles, and she pretends to throw up. "Seriously, Kens. I'll be careful. I'll see you tomorrow."

He sees her open her mouth to reply, but he curls his fingers with hers around the door knob. She can spot the change in his eyes immediately as he opens the door, going back to his alias. She steps out and he pins her to the staircase, boxing her between his arms on each side of her body. "I'll call you, babe", he says, before dipping down.

His face is just inches apart from hers, and she sees it like it's in slow motion. The moment when his nose bumps gently with hers as he tilts his head to the side. The moment when her hands move by their own volition, fisting his brand new black shirt, pulling him to her.

God, the moment when his lips meet hers.

It's quick, but in a way, it feels like it lasts _so_ much longer than that kiss they shared long ago in the suburbs. It's definitely filled with passion, though it's not what she has dreamt it would be. It's a bruising kiss, meant to mark her somehow, just like the hickey on her neck showing everyone he owns her, that she's _his_.

Anyway, it still makes her tremble. Swollen red lips shaking when they part, electricity still running through her spine. "I'll be waiting by my phone, then", she tells him, ducking under his arm. Then she runs down the stairs, heading toward Nell's place as quickly as she can, never turning to look back.

She meets her a few blocks away. She opens the passenger's door and hops in, trying to play it cool as she feels their friend's eyes on her. "Hey."

"Hi. Mmh – I know you said you could wait until we're at OSP to shower and change, but I thought you might want to get some time to yourself", Nell says tentatively. She points at a bag in the backseat with her thumb. "I brought your bag. I thought we could head over to my place. Give you some time to…go _back_ to yourself, I think. I've heard you guys say so many times how hard it is to shrug off an alias, and –"

Kensi interrupts her, laying a hand on her arm. "Thanks, Nell. I'd like that."

Nell gives her a coy smile. "I have some make-up, too. If you want to hide this…" She nods in Kensi's neck's direction, where the hickey is. "The guys won't let you hear the end of it if you don't."

"Yeah. I know. I appreciate it, Nell. I wish I could just go to bed. I never thought that partying could be more exhausting than what we do." She rubs her sore neck and leans her head back against the headrest, and closes her eyes.

Nell drives in silence to her place. But when they're about to leave the car, she softly grabs Kensi's wrist. "You know, if I didn't get to see Eric in six days all of a sudden, with no way to contact him…I think I'd stay up all night talking, too. No one will tease you about _that_."

Kensi laughs quietly, but she doesn't deny it. There's no way she can trick a _genius_. "Maybe _you_ wouldn't, because you're considerate of others' feelings. Sam and Callen, on the other hand, are five year-old little brats."

"Well, if you ever need to vent out…I do _miss_ him, too. It's just not the same without him, right ?"

Oh God if the girl has never made this much sense. "Yeah. It's _weird_ working in a professional environment. No sexual harassment, no jokes…" But the look Nell gives her tells her she's not buying any of it. "Yeah. It doesn't feel right when he's not there. Don't ever tell him that."


	12. Chapter 12

**Haha, Gi, this chapter is dedicated to you ;) Hope y'all like it. I'm now on Twitter, ZBBZL, too.**

* * *

"How is Mr. Deeks doing, my dear ?"

"As fine as can be", Kensi says nonchalantly, or at least tries to. "Withdrawal symptoms are starting to show up after a week away from the beach. His hair turned brown."

Sam lets out a snort, quickly followed by Nell's pointed look that shuts him up – spending time with Hetty taught her how to be intimidating when needed. Then she lifts her face up, her gaze locking with Kensi's and both women exchange a knowing smile. It does feel nice that Nell isn't afraid of showing she's _Team_ _Deeks_; it allows Kensi to not let her worry show too much.

Kensi's pursued lips do tell them not to press, though. There's so much she can joke about or hear before the mask shatters to pieces, her so well-rounded poker face slipping dangerously. To their credit, Callen and Sam seem to sense just how badly she misses him. Or maybe, _maybe_ there's the tiniest bit of fear surrounding them too, forcing them to admit that Deeks is one of their own and that none of them is okay with the idea of him being alone out there. No teasing comment crosses the threshold, just like no one dares mention just how tired and on the edge Kensi looks.

No make-up could cover it, how her skin doesn't glow just as much as usual. How the definite twinkle in her eyes, reflecting his mischievous gaze on a daily basis, isn't there anymore. Hell, even _she_ noticed it; how hard it is to bring herself to get up in the morning when she has spent the night worrying over him, wondering where he is, with whom, and what he _has_ to do, whether he wants to or not.

Nothing can conceal the fact that getting to see him for a few hours felt like having her Deeks fix, his sheer presence something she's grown to appreciate and be grateful for, a reason to wake up and go on every day. A presence she has missed, and whose absence has felt like getting stabbed right in the heart, again and again; the pain always there, revived by any little thing, vivid and throbbing. And now that she has seen him again, touched him, breathed him in, it feels like coming down – the aftershock maybe ever worse than his absence.

Callen clears his throat, snapping Kensi back into focus. "So, what does Deeks have so far ? Any reason for why he did _not_ call ?"

Any other day, maybe someone would tease him about _caring_ about Deeks. Not today, though. "Apparently, he didn't feel the need to. He thought that LAPD would be enough to have his back. Didn't want to involve _us_", Kensi almost spits. She can _understand_ it, really, deep down she knows he's a big boy and can take care of himself. But accept it ? No, sorry, no can do. That's not how a team works, nor a partnership. "He's meeting with a guy tonight. LAPD will be there just in case, though he thinks he won't be in any danger. Guy's a fan, or so he's been told. Esteban Marquez", she adds, and the techs immediately type in sync on their keyboards.

"Esteban Marquez, 27. Son of Sebastian Marquez, brother of Alvaro, head of the cartel which Deeks worked for", Eric quickly enumerates. "He was born and raised in Puerto Rico, he's only been in L.A. for five months. Officially, there's nothing wrong about that guy. His family is pretty famous there, some sort of maecenas. They helped financing schools or hospitals, stuff like this."

"Anything about that family feud Deeks told us about ?", Sam asks. "Cause I don't really see how meeting with the family can be of any good."

"There's a third sibling. A sister", Nell says. "Amaria Marquez, she's the youngest. According to LAPD's files, Deeks managed to get her to talk and he used all the info to build his case. Then Amaria started dating one of Alvaro's lieutenants, and all hell broke loose. Officially, they fled together to escape Alvaro's wrath, and Deeks was promoted at the highest rank. Unofficially, they've both been relocated because they accepted to testify against Marquez. With everything Deeks got thanks to her, he pretty much made stuff up about other lieutenants being untrustworthy, started spreading rumors that no one related to him, somehow. Like he said, they basically took themselves down because no one really trusted each other anymore."

Kensi fails at hiding the broad, proud smile on her lips. But Hetty's beats hers. "Some mastermind, isn't he ?"

Callen shrugs it off, but he catches a glimpse of what drew Hetty's attention to the LAPD detective. It takes some skills to do that crazy job they do, and though Deeks doesn't get to use them as often as before now he's part of their team, he's still obviously a good shot. "So Sebastian is the good brother who took over ?"

"He came in California after Alvaro went to prison to take care of his niece, Alesha. Again, upstanding citizen on the paper. He owns a couple clubs and restaurants. Mostly, he spends his time with his niece. He goes to see his brother quite often in jail, takes his niece and son with him most of the time."

They all throw a quick glance at each other, nodding briefly. Kensi is the one to voice what they all think. "If Alvaro was happy with Deeks' work, then I see no reason why this should be anything but a friendly reunion. I guess Deeks is right; no need for us to intervene."

No need to say that although she's happy that he is in no direct danger _now_, she still doesn't like the idea of him not telling them or taking such initiatives – like jumping blindly in the lion's den.

"And, did you tell him about the new drug ?"

"Yes. Deeks said that he'd talk about it with his buddy Avery. He's the one who parties the hardest, but it's common practice there. You just don't know how I've missed my badge yesterday…", Kensi says through gritted teeth. "I even knocked some girl's glass after seeing a guy put something in it. I can only hope the guy took the hint, because I left with Deeks just after that."

She fails at hiding the small shudder running through her body. But then, she can't quite deny either that other memories are causing it; hands gripping her waist, his scent and cologne the only things she could smell with every sharp intake of breath she had taken, pinned to that wall. She absently touches her neck, her fingertips tracing the bite mark hidden under Nell's much appreciated foundation cream.

The memory only, his tongue hot on her skin and his teeth dipping down into her flesh, are enough to make those walls around her melt like hot fudge under the sun.

Thought that are totally inappropriate right now. Or _ever_. Thoughts she shouldn't have, surrounded by the team, and that she knows she won't be able to keep away once she'll be home, alone. Alone in her bed, when she's spent the previous night wrapped up in Deeks' warmth, tangled limbs and mingling breaths fanning over the other. Alone in her bed after another day without him by her side.

_Stupid_, scary thoughts.

Sam's hand on her shoulder brings her back to them. "So, what's the plan, now ?", he asks, visibly for the second time.

She gives an attempt at a small smile, but everyone can see that her mind has been busy, lost somewhere over the rainbow, so far away from the gravity of it all. "Deeks thinks I should go out again tonight. Give Bianca a bit more exposure. They know the owner of the club so he won't have any trouble convincing the guys to go there tomorrow night. If he can't, he said I should just keep on showing up until they do, too. He said he would call, this time."

"So, how do you want to play this, Kens ?" Her brow furrows at Callen's question, so he goes on. "I mean, you want me or Sam to go too, meet you there, so Bianca looks like the kind of girl who leaves with just anyone ? Or maybe a girls night out ?", he offers, giving a short nod to Nell.

Kensi is about to reply when Eric cuts her off. "Nell isn't an agent. That's too dangerous."

They all turn to him, quite shocked and surprised by his outburst, but Kensi's eyes remain solely on Nell. She sees the faintest shade of pink creeping up her skin and has to hold back a grin; whether it's from embarrassment at revealing some underlying thing between the two of them, or just surprise, Kensi surprises herself by finding it _cute_.

Had it been her cheeks flushing, maybe she wouldn't.

* * *

"Ah, Mr. Sturridge. It's so nice to meet you. I've heard so much good about you."

Esteban's smile is nothing but friendly, his vigorous handshake enthusiastic as he greets Matthew, Jackson and Avery in the VIP section of the club. His young, handsome features and his strong Spanish accent could almost be endearing if Deeks didn't know to whom he is related and all the illegal activities he must be involved into.

Esteban is a good-looking, tall and lean man; slightly curly dark hair framing his face, deep green eyes enlightening his features, and his tanned skin strikes with the whiteness of his dress shirt. All in all, he's the perfect picture of the type of guy to whom any girl would be attracted.

The golden band on his ring finger doesn't prevent his eyes to wander on the waitress' cleavage, nor his hands to grope her butt.

"I'm glad my work has been appreciated", Deeks only says. "Nice place you've got there, Mr. Marquez."

"Oh, call me Esteban. After all, I feel like you're family, Matthew." Marquez offers him a smile before filling their glasses with champagne. "My uncle always speaks very highly of you and your friends. I was so happy to hear from both gentlemen here that you were back in town. My uncle isn't one to compliment just for the sake of it, as you must know. I had to meet the man he says so much good about."

Deeks smiles back, lifting his glass to clink it with Esteban's. "To being back in town. I've missed L.A."

"And L.A. has missed you, too. I wish there had been as enthusiastic and faithful people as you to help my family, and rebuild what my uncle had spent years to achieve. But I heard about your situation…" Marquez lets the implication hang in the air, sipping his drink. "Women. You have to choose them carefully. Too many need to be put in their place, though now it seems that we live in a hypocritical world that pretends they are equal to men."

Jackson snorts and Avery nods in agreement, and Deeks laughs. He relaxes against his seat, sliding one arm on the back of the booth, bringing his glass to his lips. "True, true. Though you seem to have found a good one", he says, pointing at the ring on Marquez's left hand.

"Oh, yeah", he replies fondly, touching his wedding band. "You should come to Puerto Rico someday, women there are much less exhausting. No feminist crap to mess up with their heads."

"Your wife hasn't been pestering you about how long you've been gone ?", Jackson asks. "You don't really get to go home so often."

"Oh, she understands. She knows I'm doing it for her and the baby. Everything I do is for our family. One day, this little boy will be the head of an empire", Marquez laughs.

Deeks' eyes widen for a second before he gets over the shock. It's something he has never understood, and never come to terms with; how a father, a parent, could do such things. He has seen Alvaro with his daughter, the perfect picture of family bliss, the man totally in love with his baby girl. There's nothing he wouldn't have done for her, and he gave her everything she wished for. How, how could someone so loving to his family, be such a monster ?

How could Alvaro go back to Alesha with a smile, a gift and open arms, when he had spent the day giving orders around, running his business with an iron hand ? How can Esteban have a wife and a baby boy somewhere, return to them, be proud of building a life for his family, doing what he does ?

"Now, you're not married, Matthew, are you ?", he asks. "My cousin always says you were the best. _Princesa_ was all excited when I told her I was meeting with you tonight. You ever consider having kids of your own ?"

Things just get creepier by the minute. But Deeks bites the inside of his cheek before letting out a chuckle. "God, no. Diapers and cries in the middle of the night… Ally was already a big girl, that's why it was so easy to look after her!"

Matthew was supposed to take care of Alesha when Alvaro was out, travelling to Sacramento. Mostly, he would go to pick her up at school and let her do her homework sitting at the counter as he gave his orders for the night. How many times he has felt sick knowing that a twelve year-old girl was in the very same bar where her father had escorts throwing themselves at men's neck, he can't start to keep count.

But Alesha loved him. A little girl's first crush, maybe. He still can see it clearly in his head, the tears running down her cheeks when he had told her he couldn't take care of her anymore because he had to leave – Alvaro had insisted that he said goodbye because he knew just how much his daughter adored him.

He's tired of making so many girls cry.

"Hah. You know, I was just like you before. But now I'm a dad too, Princesa and my little boy are my everything. Trust me, Matt, this is the best feeling in the world. I'd die for my cousin and my son; I'd _kill_, too." No malice behind his smile, Esteban shakes his head before he speaks again. "But I understand. There are so many hot chicks in this city, it has to be hard to choose one!"

"But they all want Matt !", Jackson intervenes, nudging Deeks playfully with his elbow. "He always gets the hottest ones. That girl last night…", he starts, dreamy look and tone. "God, sex on a stick."

Esteban winks at him before reaching to pat him on the shoulder. "See ? You have to set your priorities straight, my friend. Pick one and you'll see how much sweeter life can get. My Belinda, she cooks and she takes care of our little guy. And she has some skills. That's all you really need, trust me. Though, with the life we lead… Let me tell you that I always find some distraction to keep me busy when I'm so far away!"

He snaps his fingers and the guys clasp their hands, obviously thrilled about what will happen next.

And then Deeks has to really, really bite the inside of his cheek, nearly drawing blood, when he sees the bunch of girls stepping in the room.

God, he just hopes there's salvation and forgiveness for him somewhere, somehow.

* * *

"Walk of shame much, are we ?", Callen teases them as Kensi, Eric and Nell walk in OSP.

Kensi glares at him with tired eyes after having spent the second night in a row clubbing. Sam had suggested that Eric should go with the girls, since he was so scared for Nell's safety. So the three of them had gone out, Eric and Nell flirting like crazy – though Kensi never really established if they were trying to make it seem like they were a couple or if the change of scenery had made them go sexy and wild.

She'd rather not give it too much thought, anyway; seeing Eric in something else that flip-flops and shorts had been shocking enough.

"Jealous, are we ?", Kensi teases him. "You're too old for that kind of things, now."

Both techs are smart enough to climb the stairs leading to the OSP center without being involved in the most likely banter session to happen. Sam is laughing at Callen's face when they come back to the stairs, calling out for the rest of the team.

"We've got a voicemail from Deeks."

No one makes a comment when Kensi almost races there, as tired as she was.

Hearing his voice is the next big thing, when he's not there. But, not this time; not when she can feel how defeated he sounds, though he hides it well. She hears it because she knows him too much – by heart. His every intonation.

"Hey, uncle Mark. Just called you to let you know everything's fine here. I might have found a job, I'll get back at you later if things work out. Guess what ? I came across old friends. Hadn't seen them since high school, I think. You know, those hot twins you found me once with in the pool ? You wonder how come we meet again in L.A. when I've spent the last couple years in Vegas and them in Nebraska! Anyway, seeing them again felt damn good! We got to pick up where we had ended last time…"

Kensi feels the nausea creeping up, the lump in her throat making her feel dizzy. She steadies herself with one hand on the console, and she can hear her own heartbeat pulsing in her temple like it's gonna explode.

She doesn't want to know what he did – it doesn't matter, really. He had to, whatever he did. He couldn't blow his cover.

But it makes her sick, thinking how _he_ must feel right now for doing so anyway.

"We have two missing women from Nebraska", Eric's voice reaches her ears. "Penny Cook and Lisa Stein."

Of course they have. And leave it to Deeks to know every file by heart to remember such a detail.

"I have to talk to Hetty", Callen says. "I really don't like where this is heading…" He quickly glances at Kensi, worry clear in his eyes, and then he leaves the office.

Silence falls upon the room, Kensi averting her gaze as she feels everyone looking at her. They all know that the only thing she wants right now is to go and see Deeks.

He couldn't blow his cover, but she's very much likely to do it anyway. Because there's no way she can spend the entire day thinking about him without being there for him. She _can't_ wait until tonight, and be Bianca again, without getting a minute to tell him it's okay.

It's not, but it has to be.

* * *

"Callie, baby, what are you doing here ?"

He hears her mumble something like _God_, _no_, before Calista acknowledges his presence. "Matt. Long time no see."

"Too long, baby", Deeks says as he loops an arm around her waist, bringing her closer. She struggles against his hold, but he just laughs and drops a kiss to her temple. "Jackie didn't tell me you'd be here tonight."

Calista steps on his foot, digging her heel. Hard. "That's because I'm a big girl and I don't have to tell my brother where I go. Where is he, anyway ?"

"Dancing with some girl. I saw you from across there. God, you're all grown up now…", he slurs, his eyes roaming over her body. "Where did you hide all this ?"

"Matt", she warns. "Let me go. I came in here to have fun. Wouldn't have if I had known you would be there."

He laughs again, louder, this time. He loosens his grip but lifts one hand to tuck a tendril behind her ear. "Callie, Callie, Callie. When will you learn that the more you resist, the sexiest you look ? That doesn't make letting you go any easier, you know… Just one drink. Come and sit with me, let me buy you one drink. For old times' sake."

Calista accepts reluctantly, and he just thanks God. He has seen more than one guy hitting on her pretty hard, and each time, she's been able to make them back off. But that one last guy was insisting nearly too much to have good intentions.

Matthew doesn't protect girls, not even his friend's sister. But Matthew is territorial. And he has never hidden that he thinks of Calista as his property.

There are plenty of girls in the club tonight. Statistically speaking, he knows that one or more might end up drunk and waking up in some stranger's bed tomorrow morning. Some might not get this lucky and won't even remember why they're half-naked, or why they feel like their head is going to explode.

There might be bruises involved for some.

At least, he thanks God that Callie won't be part of them. He knows her, it's just not the same.

_Matthew_ knows her. But it makes no difference. There's no way he lets something happen to her, not under his watch.

One drink turns into two, and by the third, Avery and Jackson join them again, one drunk girl on each arm. The girls keep changing as they get up and head to the dance floor again, and Deeks stays there with Calista. Every time she tries to leave, he coaxes her into staying a bit longer, claiming that since she didn't come with friends, and that his are pretty much busy elsewhere, they could at least be alone together.

"You know what, Matt. You're actually not that bad to hang out with, when you're not trying to get into my pants", Calista laughs.

"Who said I just didn't change tactics ?"

She rolls her eyes in a very Kensi-like fashion. "And here you're back to being a jerk."

"Hey, sis. No way to talk to Matt", Jackson interrupts them as he slides in the booth next to her. "What are you even doing here ? You don't have class tomorrow ?"

"You're completely high and you're asking me why I'm out ?", she asks, her eyes wide and her tone sharp. "God, you're supposed to be my big brother, not my kid. I should get you home."

"No. Take me home instead", Deeks pleads as he leans into her personal space, one arm braced around her shoulders. "We could have a sleepover."

"Hey, that's my sister", Jackson croaks weakly, his voice barely leaving his mouth. He hiccups a couple times before pointing a finger at Deeks. "Go find yourself another girl. Don't touch my baby sister."

Avery walks – stumbles to the table, slumping on Deeks' other side. "Oh, but Callie isn't a baby. At all. Hi, Callie. Oh, and Matt, I saw your girlfriend over there."

He follows Avery's hazy gaze through the crowd and spots her dancing with some guy. Blond. He calls out to a waitress passing by, a gorgeous brunette with curly hair. "Hey, Gisela, baby doll. Another round for us, please. And, see that girl over there ?", he asks as he points Kensi. "Tell her to join us. Thanks. Here's for you."

She leans in over the table so he can slip a fifty under the strap of her dress. "See, Callie ? I'm not a pig. Not only. I did say please and thanks. I have manners. I didn't even tip her bra!"

"Yeah, whatever. I'm out, anyway. Don't want to see you christening this booth with your girl", she spits before getting up, grabbing her purse and she strides over her brother who is almost passed out. "I'm not taking him in my car, Matt. You make sure he's getting home alright."

She passes by Kensi as she heads back to the dance floor and shakes her head in disbelief.

Kensi stops in front of the table, looking at Deeks sitting there, both arms stretched on the back of the booth. He has traded the suit for a more casual outfit, though it still costs much more than her entire wardrobe. He's wearing a sea-green shirt and dark jeans, both clinging right where needed.

"You didn't call me", she says, sounding annoyed.

He smirks, and the guys undress her unashamedly. "I knew we would meet again."

"What if we hadn't ?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "What do you want me to say ?"

She puts one hand on her hip and narrows her eyes. "I dunno. Maybe you could say that you were about to call me to take me out."

"I don't do that. No fancy restaurants with me, no cheesy dates."

Her tongue darts out to moisten her lips. "Oh, then, I think there's _something_ else you won't do tonight…"

She aims to turn around and leave, but his mirthless laugh stops her. Then his voice, disdain clear in his tone, calls her back. "Seriously, you think this is gonna work ? Any girl in here would be queuing to spend five minutes with me. I can get any chick I want. You, on the other hand, will have a hard time finding someone who will make you forget your own name like I did. Don't deny it, you know it's true."

Avery gives him a huge grin and then looks up at her. "You shouldn't play with fire, doll."

She holds her ground, though, maybe a little more than what Bianca should do. "Oh, so who was the girl just leaving ? She didn't look like she's had the time of her life."

He empties his glass in one gulp before replying. "This little chit-chat is getting old. So here's your choice: either you go and find yourself some loser who _won't_ know how to handle you, or you just shut up and join us. It's up to you, babe."

She holds his gaze for a few seconds before biting down on her lip, giving a short nod of her head. And then Avery gets up to let her slide in and sit down next to Deeks.

"Here, better", he coos as he wraps an arm around her side, his hand stroking her ribcage up and down. "Guys, this is Bianca."


	13. Chapter 13

**Again, sorry for the delay. I simply suck at writing and updating, these days. I also suck at setting this into motion, so, again, forgive how slow it might seem. Or, blame them. Yeah, do that. This said, hope you enjoy.**

* * *

As he wraps his arm around her, a strong and possessive hold, Kensi realizes that tonight is truly the first time they've ever done this.

She has done it a billion times with Callen, or even Sam; being the nice idiot, the sexy and silly, giggling date, the drunk girl who stumbles on her heels. She has been the business man's classy girlfriend, elegant bun with lost tendrils and hugging little black dress. She has been the bad guy's girl, short skirt and deep cleavage and heavy make-up.

But, with Deeks, she has never had to do _this_.

Somehow, it's a role she knows better than anyone would expect. Kensi doesn't have to try _hard_ to fake that plastic, perfect smile, those seductive looks, the blinking of her lashes; the perfect picture of bliss, a mask she had worn for so long, not so long ago. If asked, anyone would say that this, is definitely _not_ Kensi Blye; she's fierce and strong and she doesn't belong to anyone. No one can claim her as theirs, no one owns her.

Kensi Blye is _definitely_ not some gorgeous trophy that you can show around. At least, she had sworn to herself she would never, ever be that _again_.

She had almost become somebody's wife, once. A wife for a man who had no trouble leaving her behind, always putting her second after almost everything. How many months had she pretended that everything was damn fine, that he would get better if she tried and tried harder, making efforts every day, helping him the best she could ? How many times had she told her friends that no, really, she didn't need them to come by or call to see if everything was okay because, _really_, they were fine ?

She can't begin to keep count of how many times she had woken up in the morning, wanting nothing more than to stay in bed forever, but still ended up getting up and putting that damn smile on.

But only now does she realize than even before all of this, before Jack left for the war, she already was nothing more than a soon-to-be trophy wife. The beautiful, sweet girlfriend, and then fiancée, whom everyone expected to stay home, waiting nicely and patiently for her man to return. The nice girl who was supposed to take care of him, and then of their children, as he would have left and left again; the perfect little housewife, goddess in the kitchen, tender and caring to their family, and always there, ready to welcome him home with open arms.

Strangely, her brief experience of marriage with her partner has been the closest thing she ever had to what true happiness and wedding bliss were. So, now, seeing him having to treat her like she's nothing more than the girl he screwed and who is likely to be his dessert again tonight… It's too much, more than she _can_ handle.

Justin – _Deeks_, really, was sweet and kind. Cheesy pet names popped in that corny mind of his all the time, his fingers would trace the length of her arm or venture to her lower back, stroking and caressing. Somehow, being his wife had been way much nicer than what she had expected, and maybe the _tiniest_ part of her missed those days, some nights when she is alone in her bed, having no one to fight against over the right side, no one to curl up to halfway through the battle.

And it's harder now she has tasted what it's like to be with _him_ that way, to do what she's expected to for this op.

It's harder because she knows he loathes it just as much as she does. He knows that she is used to her seniority over him at NCIS – and this, only because she's the fed and he's the cop, because he's been doing his job longer than her, truth be told. He knows she isn't one to submit, to no one and more specifically, to no _man_. Kensi knows that Deeks doesn't want to do this to her, mostly because he respects her way too much to even dare looking at her the way Sturridge does.

From the outside, she plays her role perfectly. But still, his fingers curl around her side a bit more, the gentle squeeze a reassuring gesture; that it's _okay_ to hate it, and more, than he hates it too. Deeks knows her by heart, and though her body is angled towards his, her knees and chest turned in his direction, her hands playing with the buttons of his shirt, the slow and tantalizing caress of her fingertips exactly what people would expect from one of Matt's conquests; well, in spite of her outstanding performance, he still knows when she's one hundred percent in and at the top of her game.

Clearly, now, she's _not_.

* * *

"So, Bianca," Avery starts as he leans into her, sliding closer in the booth. She tilts her head to the side, her hands still clenched in Deeks' shirt. "Matt didn't lie, you _really_ are quite one in a million."

She sees his green eyes drifting from her glossy lips to the deep v-neck of her red dress. His gaze is nothing but appreciative, admiring, even, and she allows a smile to stretch her lips, along with a playful wink. Bianca clearly is the kind of girl who has no problem with compliments – takes them well, enjoys and craves for them, and Matthew definitely is the kind of guy to be proud of having an attractive woman at his arm, and brag about it.

"Oh, he said that ?", she replies, turning her head again to look at Deeks. He's smiling smugly, his hand now settled low on her hip, and her own grin only grows wider. She catches her bottom lip between her teeth, and her tone is a combination of cooing and slurring when she speaks again. "Well, I've certainly never met a guy like him, either, so… I guess we're even. The compliment is mutual."

Her fingers drift up, loosely toying with the second top button, teasing it open. She lets her touch linger there, gazing up to lock eyes with him, his blue orbs back to that dark shade she hasn't seen this often – more in two nights than ever, and hers are probably daring and coaxing and revealing way too much, despite the shell of the contacts.

She's the one initiating it though, this time. _Oh_ so tentatively, _seductively_ for the guys for sure, Kensi cranes her neck up, and she closes the small gap between them. She leaves just an inch between their mouths, her blinking lashes covering her questioning look, and her tongue darts between her teeth, the tip slowly caressing his bottom lip.

Kensi will deny it all she wants and with all she's worth _later_, but right now, there's _absolutely_ no denying that his breath, though alcohol-filled, mingling with hers, is nothing short of intoxicating. Or maybe her brain can rationalize that it's exactly this, that the alcohol is clouding her judgment, even if she hasn't drunk a single sip tonight – the scent in his breath must be enough to trigger it all, this fire burning low in her belly as he catches up with her plan. Thanks God, because she wasn't even sure if she could have done that on her own. His free hand comes to the nape of her neck, bringing her rather roughly to him as his lips claim hers in a kiss that makes her toes curl, a feeling that she just _knows_ she won't be able to shrug off as part of the cover, and forget once this is all over.

She hears Avery cheering loudly – more of happily growling – but all she can really focus on is somehow related to her partner, to this side of him she already knows she could _never_ get enough of. How he doesn't play it nice and slow, doesn't hesitate as his tongue invades her mouth, coaxing hers into play; how his hand, once at her neck, is tracing a path down her body, excruciatingly slow, yet leaving her on fire at his touch, his urge showing just as much as hers.

Maybe not, when she trembles almost violently as that very same hand lands high on her thigh, disappearing under the short fabric of her dress.

He _wouldn't_, she knows it – or at least, the logical, agent part of her brain does. But that part, just like every other part of the deficient organ, doesn't work now; her body is set on fire, and _wired_ on him. And right now, his hand is sinfully teasing the soft skin of her thigh, his fingers brushing the garment they meet under, his thumb dangerously stroking toward the inside.

That rationalizing capacity oh so far gone, she just _can't_ see it as Matt being all over his latest conquest. No. She simply cannot think straight, nor remember that he must have done this with tons of other girls; hell, he might not even realize what he's doing, or that he's doing it with her.

Her quiet, low moan makes him pull back, but he's better than her at this little hiding, pretending game. When he does, it's only to reveal a cocky, satisfied smirk again on his now slightly glittery lips, her gloss transferred there. Kensi's competitive spirit is crying in a corner at being so behind him, at letting him one-upping her so easily, but the rest of her body and mind… Well, they're still too pretty clouded to really care. She leans up one last time and drops a quick kiss to his lips, catching each one softly between her parted ones, wiping the last bit of pink shade from hers.

None really cares anymore about his hand, still settled on her thigh.

* * *

Jackson clears his throat, reminding everyone of his presence, since they all thought he was pretty much knocked out. If he wasn't until now, his blank stare, his vision probably blurry from all the alcohol and stuff, he's about to. "So, mmh… Matt," he starts, mumbling, as he brushes a hand past his scruffy jaw, "Matt told us you had some great moves. Wanna dance with me ?"

She sends a puzzled look in Deeks' way, but he just shrugs it off with a smile. "Sure, go, babe. Poor Jackie boy has been _dying_ to meet you," he adds with a wink to his inebriated friend. "Av and I will find something to do in the meantime."

He snaps his fingers and calls out the same waitress as earlier, and Kensi gets up, striding over Avery who makes no effort to move and laughs loudly as his hand pats her butt.

"Hey, keep your hands to yourself, bro," Deeks says. Though the smile is still tugging at his lips, the warning is clear in his tone.

Kensi only catches a glimpse of Avery lifting in hands in surrender as Jackson tentatively takes her hand in his and leads her to the dance floor, but still not so far enough so Deeks can't see them.

He's internally drooling, that much is clear to her, but still, she can see why Deeks describes him as the guy who can't find a girl by himself. He's quite good-looking, with his unruly dark brown hair, deep blue eyes, and the scruff she misses so much on her partner. Jackson might be not as tall as Deeks, but he's lean and muscles are definitely there, the veins showing on his forearms his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. But even with all those assets, he still keeps his distance with her, barely brushing her hip with his hand, not daring to touch her any further when his friend is raising his glass to him, giving him a short nod that speaks volumes.

But he's definitely not the one feeling shy and a bit embarrassed right now.

Kensi doesn't really care about how she _knows_ – without even having to turn around and look, that Avery is probably not trying to hide his appreciation while he watches her dancing. He isn't the first one to look at her this way, like she's just some fine piece of ass and pair of breasts, and he will certainly not be the last.

Deeks, on the other hand… Well, that's definitely something else.

She has always been confident on the dance floor, losing herself to the music, the tension from the day, the job and sometimes, from their partnership, easing out of her body while she would twirl and swirl, spinning around even wearing the highest heels. Any other night, she would probably gloat at all those admiring looks, but tonight, one could almost freeze her to the spot.

She tries, for the hundredth time, to rationalize that he has already seen her in much, _much_ less, dressed up in lower low-cut outfits, or her pajamas, and she _doesn't_ allow her mind to drift back to a bathroom and a towel. She remembers, too, that she is supposed to have spent the night with him and that, therefore, he has seen _all_ of her. Dancing with his buddy under his persistent gaze _shouldn't_ be a problem; hell, any other night, this could easily turn into the major part of foreplay. The tantalizing, almost agonizing way she would roll her hips to catch his attention, how she would turn around and press her back to his chest…

Damn Hetty for giving her a partner that would inspire such inappropriate, impossible to handle thoughts. The intensity of his gaze on her makes her knees go weak, very much like the feel of his strong hold on her, his hands on her back in that alley, or just minutes ago.

And damn Deeks for being so good at this, when she would have never thought undercover could be this hard. But she sees him turning back to his conversation with Avery, and she relaxes in Jackson's embrace.

Deeks focuses his attention back on Avery who orders another round of shots to Gisela, and he mentally counts that he's at his fifth, but that Avery and Jackson are way far ahead, and not only regarding alcohol. "So, Jack is completely wasted. What did he take this time ?"

Avery merely chuckles, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass. "Bah, nah. He's happy, believe me. He's just into mixed stuff, I think he took pretty much everything. But you just know he would _never_ be this bold with girls if he were sober, so it might be for the best!"

"_Bold_ ? Just wait until he throws up or passes out, we'll see who's bold then."

"Callie will nurse him back to health, like she always does," Avery shrugs. "She can go all bitchy if she wants, she still wouldn't leave him pooling in his puke. Tell you what, I'm pretty sure she would take care of you, too. She's grown on you."

Deeks lets out a loud roar of laughter, knocking another glass down. "Who wouldn't ?," he asks smugly. "I'll have her eating in my hand in no time, trust me. She likes playing hard-to-get, but she's just like any other girl, huh ? 'No' _always_ means 'yes'."

The other man raises his eyebrows briefly, a feigned compassionate expression in his eyes. "Bro, there's enough girls everywhere so you don't need that one chick. Besides, Callie sounds _so_ uptight! Don't you get enough with Bianca ?"

"Spoilsport," he sulks. "I'm pretty sure Bianca wouldn't mind some company, though…" He catches a glimpse of Avery's stunned gaze, and pats him on the back. "Wow, man, you should've seen your face!"

Avery slips his hand in the inside pocket of his jacket resting on the booth and retrieves a small plastic bag, a snow-white powder inside. "To get over the visual," he says with a grin as he slowly half empties the content on the table, lining it with his glass. "You want some ?"

Deeks just shakes his head no as his friend lower his to the table, sniffing avidly. "You know what ? Gimme some. Might be nice material for later fun."

Avery gives him the bag, smiling broadly, white still at the corner of his nose. Deeks lets his gaze wander on other tables, and pretty much everywhere in the club, people are either doing the same, almost having sex against a wall or breaking over and over the 'no touching' rule with the waitresses.

As he stares blankly at the crowd, his gaze locks with Kensi's, still dancing, but this time much, much closer to Jackson, his own hands eagerly finding the small of her back and heading south. With a quick nod to Avery, he gets up and walks to them.

"Taking it back," he just says as he drags Kensi out of his arms. "You're trashed, Jack, so I'm gonna forget where your hands just were. But…" He lets it trail before lifting his free hand to his cheek, patting a few times. "Touch what's mine again like this, and friend or not, I'll break your fingers one by one. No you and your hand anymore."

He turns to look at her, wide eyes, parted lips and tongue slowly darting, frozen in the suitable expression of arousal that should be there at being fought over. He tries to ignore, though, the pang in his chest at letting her witness this side of him, or rather, the display of Matt's short, bad temper, and how territorial he gets with his _toys_. "Well, then, we're out, baby doll ?"

She nods eagerly, snuggling closer to his side. "Yeah…But I wanted to dance with you, too," she slurs, her lips pressed in a ridiculous pout. She tugs at his belt, looping her thumbs in the hem and bringing him further away. "Come on'.

She sees Jackson stumbling back to the table, ready to pass out, and she drags Deeks to a corner right by the bar. It gives them the opportunity to still watch them, combined with quiet as people are crowded in the middle of the club. She turns her back to him, his hands immediately dropping to her sides, and he dips his face to her ear.

"What is it, has Jackson done something else ?"

"No. Don't worry. I – I just…" She moistens her lips and tries, oh so very hard, to look all sexy and happy. "I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

She feels how tense he suddenly is, her body so flushed against his he can't hide it. Still, he nuzzles his face in her neck, his hot breath reawakening those delicious tingles in her body, the tiny, fluttering butterflies in her stomach that _have_ to be exterminated. Right now. "Course I am. I'm gonna take the sexiest girl in this club home, why wouldn't I be ?"

Her voice is just little over a whisper when she replies; from the emotion, or his closeness, the warmth radiating from his body making her go weak to the knees, she doesn't know. "Well, then, _I'm not_. And I couldn't wait till we're home to ask. Because I –"

Damn it.

Stupid care, stupid concern. Stupid damn feelings, stupid feelings she just can't voice. God, she did admit she wasn't damn fine, how come she can't go on, all of a sudden ?

How come all she wants to do right now is turn around and hug him, wrap her arms around him to say how very sorry she is that he has to be there and do what he has to ? When did she start allowing herself such thoughts, or needs ? Scary, inappropriate thoughts that could lead her to reveal so much with one little, longing gaze, or a caress too soft, all so familiar and comforting.

Damn job. Damn life.

And damn fever creeping up her skin when his low, deep voice in her ear does actually make her tremble. "I'm okay now. You're here. That's _all_ that matters."

Oh, Lord.


	14. Chapter 14

**Sorry for the delay. This chapter was born only thanks to the constant support and pleasant pestering of the Twitter girls. Now, I can take another break until the next update. That said, hope you enjoy.**

* * *

Worst is, she realizes, she _does_ feel better now, too. And she doesn't even need alcohol to shrug the embarrassment of the admission off; she has missed him, she has been scared for him, but now she's there with him, it has all gone away.

And, relief ? God if it feels damn good.

Like, weirdly (_who is she kidding_ ?) the feel of his arms around her.

Though, good might be the understatement of the year regarding _this_: the heat pooling low in her belly, the desire coiling in the pit, so, so tighter with every touch; the scent of his cologne, strong and unlike him, yet making her a bit dizzy. Deeks doesn't wear cologne, she knows it; and as terrifying as it is for her to admit, his natural scent, salt and fresh breeze and that almost girly, fruity shampoo he uses, is enough to reawaken quite vivid dream on a regular basis. Like, when he comes in the bullpen on the morning, his hair still damp from the ocean, the delicious way his shirt clings to his muscles and still a bit wet body… The scent _only_, God. And then, a quick look in his direction confirms that, God help her, _she wants him_.

She wants him when he's dripping in her dreams, coming out of the ocean, his surfboard under one arm, drops of salty water falling from his damn perfect curls and rolling down his chest. She wants him when he's annoying her to no end, stealing her Twinkies and Ding-Dongs, or when he teases, threatens her not to buy her any. God, she even wants him when his teeth sink in the candy, unable to look away from those lips and those half-closed eyes, that look of perfect bliss he does just to irritate her. And that teasing tongue slowly tracing and wiping the sugar off those damn seductive lips…

And God, does it only make it harder to breathe.

Right now, she might want him more, though. It would be hard _not_ to, really, with his hands low on her hips, his hot breath by her ear and no inch between their bodies. No inch between his chest – and oh God if surfing did really do wonders, and her back; no inch between those tight, amazing jeans that are just begging to be ripped off his body, and her rolling hips.

And still, _she_ is the one almost squirming from the pressure.

She turns her head away from his questing lips on her neck, giving a short nod. "See that guy over there ? Black shirt, terrible jacket ?"

He laughs against her skin. "For once you're not mocking _my_ clothes. What's with the guy ?"

She shrugs off the tingles from his laughter, focusing on the crowded place. "I saw your buddy Avery pay him for some stuff earlier. I took a picture, already sent it to LAPD for facial rec."

"Oh. Isn't that my job ? But, don't worry," he whispers, his lips finding the shell of her ear again. "I'm pretty sure you would look hot in my uniform."

Oh, dear. But Kensi schools her voice, banishing the shaking, and only replies with a smile, followed by a loud giggle. "That would be a nice costume. Remind me to try it on someday."

He always seems to be one step ahead, these days, so she's barely surprised when she hears his chuckle again. Still, it bothers her competitive side, annoyed at being challenged and beaten without so much of a fight on her part – something that is utterly _inacceptable_. Deeks loosens his hold around her, and, ever so gently, turns her around so she faces him. One hand snakes to her hair, pushing curls away from her face, as the other settles on her lower back, his arm loosely wrapped around her, flushing her body to his.

"Yeah, definitely," he breathily lets out, his fingers dancing over the red headband lost in her dark curls. "You would be the sexiest cop ever. Tell you what, I'll even print the picture in giant size and put it in my bedroom. Or sell it for our calendar. Or both."

Her hands flat on his chest, she playfully pushes him, but his hold on her only tightens. She rolls her eyes – and God if she hasn't miss his witty banter, and rolling her eyes to his jokes – but still, she leans up to drop a light kiss at the corner of his mouth. "Tsk, you're such a man."

"Oh, I sure hope so. It would feel weird learning I'm a girl after thirty-three years. I've gotten used to the whole, fantastic package here," he teases. "So, you ready to go home, now ?"

"Sure. I'm just gonna pass by the bathroom to freshen up. I've got something stuck in my eye." He opens his mouth, but she cuts him off with a light pressure of her own on his. "No, I _don't_ need you in there, handsome."

With that, she gives one last pat to his chest and heads to the ladies' bathroom. She doesn't need to turn around and watch to know that his jaw has dropped and most likely hit the ground.

It doesn't keep her from enjoying the feeling, though.

* * *

She reciprocates the seductive smiles she receives on her way to the bathroom, and even allows some hands to touch her in places that would most likely send their owners in a plastic bag, were she Kensi Blye. But Bianca Sanderson doesn't seem to mind – actually basks in the attention, and just swirls her hips as her heels drum on the floor to the rhythm of the music.

There are three women rooted in front of the large mirror when she comes in, redoing their make-up. Kensi has to bite the inside of her cheek to hold back her laughter at the picture: the first girl is applying another heavy touch of mascara to her already dazzlingly disturbing, popping eyes; the second, a fierce red to her glossy, plump lips, and the third is literally sponging her face with foundation cream.

God, and here men are, thinking it's so easy to be a woman. Upon watching those three girls, Kensi sadly thinks that they have no idea of how wrong they are; men _definitely_ don't know what they are dealing with, down there. But, as she nears the mirror, she realizes that, she, too, is wearing an insane amount of make-up, and that, truth be told, she's not so different from them.

It's just an op, maybe; but she hadn't realized, earlier as she was getting ready, just how much slutty she looked. Granted, the clothes are hers, but with the current arrangement of her painted face, the pouty pout she has trained so hard to achieve, and everything else she's done, she feels a little dirty, all of a sudden.

The girl to her right turns to her, and looks at her from head to toe. She then gives her a small smile. "I love your heels," she says, admiring tone and sparkling eyes.

"Thanks," Kensi replies, feeling a bit ashamed of having judged the girl so quickly. After all, she's done this dance for quite a long time, too; going out, using what Nature has been very good for giving her.

She doesn't need to think very hard to remember when she stopped, actually.

She leans over the sink, tentatively poking at her eye with the tip of her finger to take that little dust off her contact. Her eyes water just at the small touch, those horrible contacts be damned, and she takes a paper towel to wipe the tears gathering at the corner. One of the other girls searches through her cluttered purse, and extends her hand to her, her mascara in it. "It's waterproof, if you want. Had another one before, it gave me allergies. Try it on."

Kensi accepts it with a smile, and applies a good amount under the three women's persistent gaze. Slightly amused, she turns to look at them. The third one who hadn't spoken until now opens her mouth, in search for words; she gasps like a goldfish a few times before tentatively trying, "We saw you with this guy… You're dating Matthew Sturridge, right ?"

Like Deeks' ego needed that, she thinks. But she allows her smile to stretch her lips higher up, a proud, almost arrogant gleam in her eyes. "I guess that's his name, yeah… Why ?" The three girls, friends, apparently, only beam brighter. They look a bit younger than her, and Kensi wonders how come Matthew can be so famous when he's barely been back in town.

"We've heard so much about him," the blonde girl gushes. "He got the VIP table right from the very first time he came here. He knows the owner. How hot, right ?"

"And one of his friends is totally cute," the second giggles, biting her lip like a schoolgirl. "I danced with him the other night, not sure he remembers me, though," she sighs.

"Why don't you just ask him to dance again ?," Kensi asks, a bit surprised at the girls' shyness with the guys. It's not like Matt and his friends are gods, right ? "He won't bite you."

One of the three laughs, winking at her friend. "Oh, but Addie would love him to bite her, huh ?" Said Addie's eyes widen, and she nudges the girl with her elbow. "Wow, calm down, tiger! I'm just saying that you haven't stopped talking about him and what you would do if –"

"Anyway," Kensi stops her, "It was nice talking to you, but Matt's waiting for me, so…" She waves at them and aims to head to the door, when it opens, revealing a familiar face coming in.

The sudden change in the air is palpable as Calista makes her way through the girls and comes to a stop at the sinks. The girls give her a disapproving look before nodding at Kensi, wishing her a good night further. They exit the bathroom and leave the two of them, alone. Kensi contemplates following them, but Calista's visible annoyance both surprises her just as much as it intrigues her.

She sighs loudly as she empties the content of her purse on the counter. "You shouldn't hang out with Matt, you know. He's trouble personified."

"Says the girl who was sitting and drinking with him."

Calista finds her lipstick and applies it on her lips, staring at her reflection in the mirror. "I know you have no reason to listen to me, but I know Matt. Probably better than you do. I've seen girls gushing over him because he's hot. But that must be about _all_ he has."

Kensi crosses her arms over her chest, the defensive gesture not going unnoticed by her brain, which is battling to know if it's Kensi or Bianca being so eager to defend her man. If it's Kensi being angry at someone for speaking so low of her partner, unsettled by how he must look like from the outside, or if it's Bianca getting all territorial over the guy who comes close to being her boyfriend.

That's a battle Kensi knows she's already lost, a question whose answer is all too obvious, and, truth is, _scary_.

"What do you mean ?," she manages to let out, her lips pressed in a thin line. "From where I stand, it only looks like you've been turned down and you're jealous."

Calista's mirthless laugh truly surprises her, though Deeks had warned them about her low esteem of Matt. "Me, interested in Matt ? God, no! I would never sink as low as to sleeping with the guy. Like I said, he's hot, that's obvious, I'll admit that. But he's no boyfriend material. He'll find another girl the moment you don't satisfy him anymore."

"I don't see why this might be any of your business. And I think I know how to keep a man's interest, thank you," Kensi replies coldly, her hand now on the doorknob.

"Oh, I'm sure you have no problem with that," Calista says softly, though the innuendo is clear in her disdainful tone. "I'm just saying, Matt did some stuff in the past, he's not a good guy. But, go ahead, have your fun. Just don't say I didn't warn you. Matt always wins because he has money, but that doesn't mean that all the things he's done can be erased with it."

"Why were you hanging out with him, then, if he's so bad ?"

Calista turns to look at her, this time. And Kensi can't deny that the serious look on her face should be enough to convince Bianca of her honest concern, even veiled by the disdain she sure feels for any girl dating Matthew. "Because I was stupid enough to think that there _was_ something deeper behind the façade," she almost whispers before straightening up. "But I was wrong. That stuff about eyes saying it all, you know ? That's bullshit. Don't let yourself fall for his baby blues. He's nothing but a cheeky bastard. Good looks won't change that."

Kensi's heart constricts, and she opens the door, leaving the room without a second glance back.

* * *

"You're quiet," Deeks notices as they're walking back home. "You tired ?"

He gives a light squeeze to their linked hands, and Kensi gives him a small smile. "Yep. I want to go to bed so, so bad."

He winks at her, and as much as she would love not to, the cocky grin on his lips only makes hers twitch up. "You just have to say the word, Fern. You know it. Oh, wait – you just did!"

She doesn't reply but just leans into him, and he takes his hand back from hers, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. He won't say it, but a sleepy Kensi is utterly adorable, and the fact that she's letting him see her like this; almost childish, a bit vulnerable as sleep is luring her into its welcoming arms, is really refreshing. Bianca can be sexy and wild on the dance floor, and he would be lying if he said that didn't turn him on, but those quiet moments when he meets a new side of Kensi ?

He's been hoping and waiting for them for as long as he has known her. From the very first day, right from the very start; waiting for the moment when she would let the guard down, even just a little, but enough for him to know that she's clingy in her sleep, or that he's the first one she calls in case of urgency – in time of _need_.

They reach his apartment, and he spots his neighbor currently engaged in a furiously wild make-out session with a girl by the stairs. Taking the rather not subtle hint, Kensi walks backwards, her thumbs looped in his belt, until her back hits the staircase. The sexy gleam back in her tired eyes, she winks at him as he dips down, his lips nearing hers, but she escapes his embrace at the very last second, racing him to the door. She leans against the wooden door, one leg bent, her foot resting behind her, and she looks down at him, a cocky smile on her lips.

It's kind of silly, really, just how much they like to challenge the other, winning the upper hand turn by turn, but still, are stubborn enough not to go any further.

Silly, or plain _stupid_.

He climbs up the stairs and stops right in front of her, downright stepping into her personal space, and his lips find her neck as he fumbles in his pocket to retrieve his keys. Her fingers latch on his belt again, and this time, he has to bite down on his bottom lip to hold back the growl that just threatens to burst out at her skilled moves.

"I'm having a hard time finding the keyhole when you do that," he groans against her skin, desperately trying to reign the light shaking of his fingers.

"I had a hard time thinking while your hand felt up my thigh. _Payback_, hot stuff," she teases, stopping the movement of her hands, though.

He finally manages to unlock his apartment door, and they step in. He goes on with his daily routine of closing all the shutters and blinds, checking if anything has moved in every room, because that feeling of safety you end up having when everyone sees you as who you pretend to be, is what gets you killed, _eventually_. Deep down, he _knows_ that Matthew's cover is safe, because he's already been there, done that; there's no doubt for anyone that he _is_ Matthew Sturridge.

Alvaro had trusted him with his most treasured property, his own daughter; Esteban trusted his uncle's word that he was a gifted man. Jackson and Avery would hide nothing from him.

But it's always when you allow yourself to think you're safe, that you're not.

So, day after day, night after night, he ticks all the points on his personal check-up list. No stuff in weird places, no bugs, no possibility of anyone seeing him from the outside. Once he's home from a night spent partying, like the guys and he do every single time, he closes the shutters, and only reopens the ones with the view behind the building when he needs some fresh air.

When he needs to see the sky and remember that, somewhere, there's someone waiting for him.

Once, the open window had been a place to think of his mother, wondering if, wherever she were, she was thinking of him, too. Wondering if she was still as worried, as angry with him as she were the last time they've seen each other.

Hoping that she's happy, anyway.

This past week, he's found himself breathing in the fresh breeze every night, thinking of Kensi. Hoping that she didn't miss him just as much as he did, because he knew his heart literally _ached_ just at the thought of her; knew that every single second he afforded himself to think of her, her eyes, her skin, just how good they were, working together, was a second that could be lethal for him.

A second, and then another, turning into minutes and hours spent lying awake in bed before getting up, and walking to the window to finally breathe. Hours spent wanting nothing but to hop in his car and drive to her place, just to see her, even just peek through her curtains like some sick stalker, and then go home, finding comfort in knowing she was still there.

God, he never knew it was possible to miss someone so much it felt like you were some dead man walking.

No, he knew it. He just wasn't prepared to _feel_ it, the ache crushing him like wicked waves at the bay, rolling and wrapping around him, drowning him in and eating him alive.

He feels a soft hand on his arm, pulling him out of his dark thoughts, and turns to face her. Kensi is looking at him with soft eyes, yet, surprise clear in her dark mismatched orbs. "What's this ?," she asks, her voice just above a whisper as she lifts her hand, her fingers clutched around cotton and plaid.

Lost in his own thoughts, he didn't see her go to the bathroom. He tries a tentative smile, his hand at the nape of his neck, scratching nervously. "You don't like it ?"

She rolls the fabric between her fingers, taking in the green and pink plaid of the sleepshirt and matching shorts; the shirt, mid-thigh length, looks just like one she has back at home, one she's sure he doesn't know about. She looks at the label, and grins. "I'm just – surprised, I guess, that out of all the things in _this_ shop, you chose _this_."

"Oh. Would you rather I picked something from that _very_ _sexy_ collection ? Because, I can totally go back and change it," he says, dispelling the unease with his teasing. "Or maybe you want to know what kind of _Angel_ you are. That shop is amazing."

She doesn't poke him, nor does she punch him, and it makes him even more nervous. She just looks up, her bottom lip trembling just a bit. "You shouldn't have. That was risky, and –"

"I've been careful," he immediately reassures him. "I went early in the morning, just after you left. The guys always sleep way after noon, anyway. I checked I wasn't tailed, I wandered around for quite some time," he counts on his fingers, "I went to the farthest shop from here so I would most likely come across no one Matt knows. I paid in cash, and I checked again and again that no one tailed me. And, even if someone did see me…I can always say I bought some naughty stuff so my girl can give me a little show."

Kensi ponders it for a minute before nodding softly. "You're right, I overreacted. That's… I really like it, thanks. I'm – I'm gonna change, then."

She offers him a coy smile before turning back and heading to his room. His voice calls out to her when she's about to open the door. "I just – I just wanted you to feel like you're home. Not like you're just some temporary guest I bring here to…you know. It's bad enough that you have to leave in the morning, go all walk on shame until you meet with Nell. I'm sorry if it was out of line."

Her breath catches, and she has to steady herself against the door to find some self-control. Slowly, she just turns her head to him. He's still standing there, his hands now tucked awkwardly in his front pockets, waiting for her reply.

"It wasn't. This might be about the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me."

He's busy in the kitchen when she comes out of his room, freshly showered and wearing her new pajamas. He immediately turns to her, hiding something in his back. "You're not supposed to see, it's a surprise."

Smiling, she covers her eyes with her hands while he tidies the kitchen spot. She would recognize the sound of Twinkie wrappers among thousands others, and the attention only threatens to catch her breath, again. "You good," he says, and she opens her eyes again. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving. You should never drink on an empty stomach."

He tilts his head towards a tray full of candy, but Kensi's eyes don't leave him. Can't follow his gaze, can't look away. His brow furrows, and before she can even acknowledge what she's doing, she's walking to him and wrapping her arms around his neck, tip-toeing to reach his full height, her body pressed flush against his.

"What – what are you doing ?," Deeks asks, his voice a higher pitch than usual. "What is that for ?"

She only tightens her hold around his neck, leaning back just enough to look him in the eye. "Isn't it obvious ? I'm hugging you."

"Yeah, yeah, I had it figured out. But – _why_ ? You don't hug _me_. You don't do hugs."

He hesitates before loosely wrapping his arms around her waist, his hold way lighter than hers. Her nose almost bumps his as she has trouble finding her balance, still tip-toeing, so he settles with going with the flow of this surreal moment and hugs her tighter.

"Maybe I should. Maybe it's time I start doing stuff like this. Maybe…" She bites down on her lip, only now realizing just how intimate it is to literally be in his arms, a light rosy shade starting to creep up her uncovered legs and the skin of her neck, to her cheeks. "I mock you, I tease you… The guys, too. Because we know you know it's just jokes. But maybe, maybe now we know each other better… I think you don't need me to try and dispel the tension. You don't need me to give you a speech. You need a hug, Deeks."

"Desperate times call desperate measures," he says, though an unusual unease colors his tone. "You don't have to do that."

She hides her face in the crook of his neck, before she speaks again. "Maybe _I_ need a hug, too." She gives him a minute to take it, feeling just how tense he is – because, honestly, her own emotions are ranging from nervousness to concern right now, even though the warmth of his embrace is enough to make her forget about it. The furious drumming of her own heartbeat is deafening, but she doesn't care.

It might be just a hug, but, _come_ _on_, it can never be innocent, or simple between them.

"And…when you're ready to talk, you just have to say the word," she says, breaking the comfortable silence. "In the meantime, this hug thing doesn't feel as bad as I thought it would. Maybe I should have started that way long ago."

He laughs, and the sound only warms up her heart. "Maybe. But I think I'm kinda gonna miss your punches."


	15. Chapter 15

**Sorry for the delay, again. Sigh. This just didn't want to come out. Hope you enjoy, anyway. Thanks to the Twitter girls for the support.**

* * *

It's on the tip of her tongue, really.

Actually, there are _dozens_ things she could throw back, teasing him, going back to their banter; she could even punch him for good measure. A part of her feels like she _should_, but, in the end, she decides against it.

Or, more likely, the feel of his arms around her is worth letting it go. It's enough to make her snuggle closer, tighten her hold around his neck; enough to, somehow, make it _okay_. Make it okay to surrender, for once; and, for the first time, surrender doesn't feel that bad. It feels too damn good for Kensi to care; right now, she can't bring herself to care about what it might mean between them.

He needs it, and he needs her. And Kensi be _damned_ if she doesn't do what her partner needs. Good thing is, for once, they finally seem to agree on something, because, God help her, _she_ needs it, too.

"Would you…," he starts, his voice colored with uncertainty and – _embarrassment_ ? "Would you be mad at me if I didn't want to let you go ?"

Mad, no. Embarrassed at her crazy heartbeat, or the flush creeping up her skin, maybe; totally, even. Because Kensi Blye doesn't melt in someone – in her _partner's_ embrace. Kensi shouldn't want it to last forever. "You get a free pass because I feel sorry for your hair," she finally says. It's the only safe way out of this one, Kensi thinks.

Kensi knows there's definitely something off when he doesn't tease her about it. Oh so slowly, and oh so reluctantly, she leans back and loosens her hold around his neck, her arms dropping at his sides. When he tries to unwrap his from her waist, she fists his shirt, holding him firmly in place. Biting her lip, she lifts her head and locks eyes with him; what she sees there almost kills her.

"Just tell me what it is, Deeks. You know you can tell me anything," Kensi whispers, her hands now flat on his chest, feeling the quick and unsteady rise and fall. The fast heartbeat, too, matching hers.

She's too close for comfort, or so it seems, for both of them. Even so, none of them seems ready to pull back, step out of this; the feel of her palms, their heat sinking through the fabric of his shirt, warming him inside. The feel of his arms, still loosely circling her waist, his hands nearing places she should slap him for. But, both are so far gone, it doesn't even cross their minds.

There's something there that definitely wasn't there before. And, as scary as it should be, Kensi soon finds that they had it coming, the telling intimacy that keeps her from _really_ wanting to run away.

Deeks feels it, too. The sudden change in the air that has slowly made its way between them for the past few days; how little things, when you added them all up together, could change it all. Kensi Blye, willingly being in his arms with no direct need to for the sake of keeping cover in front of suspects, is a sight he never dared conjuring on his own. True, he had dreamed of her once or twice – thousand times, but who's keeping count ? – but not even once had he imagined something like this. He definitely never had a _cute_ Kensi visiting him in his dreams. Because, however dangerous she could be if she knew what he was thinking, right now, she's only cute and her concern is so damn adorable he could just kiss her, right then and there.

Lift her effortlessly and sit her atop that counter and kiss her until she forgets about her Twinkies, and then carry her to his room and, well… All it took for her was a little hug to trigger those fantasies of his. And have ones he didn't know he had blossom; threading his fingers through those damp curls framing her beautiful face, kissing his way up and down that deliciously rosy skin. And, slowly peeling off those pajamas that look so good on her, the soft cotton way sexier than any skimpy lace, her long, bare legs wrapped tightly around his waist…

He can almost feel the taste of her on his tongue.

"Deeks ?" Kensi tries again, bringing him back from his reverie. "I'm here, okay ? I'm not going anywhere. No matter what you say, I won't leave. _Partner_."

His arms drop to his sides, and Kensi mirrors his actions, taking her hands back from their previous, far too comfortable position on his chest. He misses their warmth immediately, misses the way they were anchoring him in place, giving him a solid lifeline to hold onto; misses how, as surprising and unexpected from his partner as it was, it feels oh so familiar. How, her body closer to his than ever before, her sweet scent that he inhales with every breath, feel like coming home, all of a sudden.

That's when Deeks knows nothing won't ever be the same, ever again after this. Once things go back to normal, to this normality of theirs; their life, as risky as it is, is still what they're used to, who they are. In this life, stability, _constancy_, is their banter; the way they can tease each other endlessly, how they never seem to be able to voice the feelings lying beneath the surface with anything but jokes and teasing.

There's no room for an adorable, caring – _loving_ Kensi, in their relationship. Because that side of her, with whom he has already grown to fall in love in a couple days, will leave once things go back to normal. Once she's not scared for his safety anymore, when her concern and loyalty stop making her act like a fool – once she realizes what she's doing.

Making it so hard to let go.

But he has to, that much he knows. Because, if he lets her in, _really_ in, it's gonna be harder to let go when he has to. Harder to look at her the same way, when he's known what it felt like to have her so close; harder to draw those damn lines again, when they're already so dangerously stepping out of them, venturing in uncharted territory that, like it always does, seems so alluring, temptation calling him like Adam to the apple. Oh, if he's sure it would be the sweetest forbidden fruit ever, to kiss those full, red lips from her biting on them.

God, he has to stop this, _now_.

* * *

He watches Kensi lean against the kitchen counter as she waits for him to do something, move or talk or break down, he doesn't know. He tries, and fails in the attempt, not to look at her face, the worry clear as it spreads across her features, the light frown on her brow, her perfect teeth sinking into her bottom lip. He quickly realizes that any part of her he chooses to lay his eyes upon is dangerous, now, from the softness in her gaze, to the way her pajamas cling to her body, molding every perfect curve. Deeks soon realizes, though, that it's easier to speak again, when he's not staring into those deep brown orbs, that he knows_, oh God if he does_, he could stare into for a lifetime, concern and care enlightening them in a way that is both killing but thrilling him.

His eyes are roaming somewhere around the hollow of her throat and the skin the collar of her shirt allows him to see, when he finally breaks the silence. "You didn't have to come, Kensi. If I really had something, if there was anything I could do, if I had a plan…I would have asked you to."

She had expected it; but, she can't help but admit, to herself only, that it hurts. Damn, it does; it hurts to hear him say he somehow doesn't want her there, even though she knows what he's doing here. Hell, she's tired of that stupid dance they do all the time, plenty exhausted when he's the one pulling, so used that she is to his constant pushing. "You know why I'm here. I'm not your case handler, Deeks. I'm your partner. That means something in my book," Kensi sighs softly, tilting her head to the side and lowering her gaze to meet his. "You would do the same for me. You would push until I'm too tired to pretend I don't need you to."

He tries not to let it warm him up too much. But her words, the soft tone of her voice matching a tenderness he's never seen in her eyes, are hard to resist, and, however tough he's become through the years, there's still some things that can literally take his breath away. He's not sure if he minds that much about it, or none at all.

Deeks finds that, in spite of everything, he's damn lucky to have someone like her in his life to help him remember that it can be worth it.

That, yeah, you can be so happy you could die.

And, yeah, he's definitely oh so far gone, and crazy, if out of all this mess, her words of comfort, her sheer presence, even, can make it all better. The thought of her only, really, early this morning when he had finally gotten home from his night out with the guys.

So trashed his head still hurts, the adding alcohol from tonight not helping in any way.

Deeks shakes his head in disbelief, choosing to linger on her last words instead of focusing on everything else that, right now, is too much. "So, you need me, uh ?" he challenges with a wink. "And here I was thinking you are likely to rip my head off when I do that."

Her tone is firm, no trace of humor when Kensi replies. Resolute, she doesn't try to shrug it off or dismiss the admission, however embarrassing it sounds. "Because I don't like to admit it, doesn't mean it's not true."

The corner of her mouth twitches up awkwardly, against her will. She's nervous, all of a sudden; still, she knows that, sometimes, it can't be all about what she is comfortable with. Sometimes, she needs to think of what he needs, and right now, her partner needs to know that his help, his presence, his pushing, are always appreciated, even though dismissed and mocked all the time.

She _wants_ him to know she can be there for him, like he always is for her. That she, too, can be emotionally open and ready to face the unknown with him, because it doesn't look as scary when they're in this together.

"Deeks," she says again, his name on her lips so soft, he wonders if someone ever said it so low, so quietly, just like it's something precious. "I won't pretend I know how you feel. But – God, I _can't_ believe I'm the one saying this…," Kensi goes on, hesitant and a bit blushy, now. "You always seem to know what I need, whether it's candy and sweets, sparring or, well…_talking_. You need to talk, tell someone about it. You can't just bottle it up, hoping it will go away if you try really hard not to think about it. It only makes things harder, harder than they should."

At this point, he's not really sure if she's still talking about him. Lifting his face to her, his eyes finally locking with hers, he can see she doesn't know, either. He can see that, behind the mask, the annoying _I'm fine_ she always sends his way, there's something, something deeper and darker, veiled and guarded by those shield and walls she has erected around her.

Something she's letting him see so he'll open up, too.

* * *

Sighing, he takes the tray with both hands and heads to the couch, Kensi silently following him. He sits on one end, Kensi on the other, and can't help but smile when he sees her reaching for two Twinkies at a time, shoving them in her mouth without even chewing on them. When she catches his eye, she only grins.

"You know I went out with the guys last night, to meet Marquez," he starts, and she nods. "And I'm pretty sure Hetty already called Bates because you didn't ask a single thing about the girls, so I guess you know what I told him."

Kensi nods again, not mentioning that she had been ready to storm out of OSP and go and see him before Sam held her back, telling her that Callen was already with Hetty and that he was sure everything was okay. That Deeks would have never left a voicemail like this, if he had been in any sort of trouble. And Sam had been right; one call to LAPD had told them that Deeks had called Lieutenant Bates, too, and informed him of what was going on.

One night, one first meeting with Marquez wasn't nearly enough to put the pieces together. Yes, _entertainment_ had been girls, and yes, two of them were missing women. Still, it was no surprise for a guy like Esteban Marquez to have fun and greet his guests the best way he could, the _only_ way in _this_ world.

A world where women, even loved ones, wife or cousin, were treated like shit, a world where adoration and love had a different meaning, a meaning Deeks couldn't quite comprehend. How Marquez could claim that he loved his wife, and still sleep around, was beyond anything Deeks could understand; how he could talk about Alesha like she was the light of his life, and still act with other women the way he did…

It never ceases to kill him, and he can't count how many hours he has spent lying in the dark, cheating on sleep, losing his sanity over the question. How could someone who knew what love was, who felt it, cared about people, could still do that ?

"It was just a random night for Matt, you know ?" Deeks goes on, now just eager to spit it out and be done with this op. "Going out, drinking, spending time in charming company… Marquez wanted to see me because he's heard a lot about Matt. The guy is pretty much a reference in this family."

Kensi doesn't miss the light tremor in his voice, the disdain toward his alias clear in his every word. And, after hours reading his notes, she just _knows_ what sort of things Esteban Marquez must have heard about Matthew Sturridge.

And she knows – understands what he must feel. She feels _for_ him, too, because of all the things he must have done to keep cover. All these things he's done to maintain the façade, day after day, so people would trust that he really _is_ the guy who could send a woman to the hospital because he had lost his temper. The guy whom people talked about with that sick admiration and respect.

God if she knows he must lose a lot of sleep over this.

Over the lines that he's so scared could get blurred.

She's scared, too. This guy with the hollow look, he's not her partner. The way his disgust toward whatever he did shows in his tone, well, it's definitely so far away from his annoying but endearing drawl, his unprofessional comments all day long that – and she won't ever admit this to his face – make the hard parts of the job, less hard. More acceptable, more tolerable.

"Anyway, we talked, drank, played poker. A nice night, had it been not spent with a couple sick bastards," he says as he bites on the nail of his thumb, making a face when he bites a bit too hard. "Marquez said his dad and uncle had been happy to hear about my return, that they might have a job for me."

"So, you _celebrated_ it ?" Kensi asks, her gaze focused on the Twinkie she has reduced to pieces on her lap.

"No, no. _Fun_ came before that, actually." He closes his eyes then, and rests his head against the back of the couch just like he had done a few nights ago. He breathes heavily, and Kensi watches with resolute focus the rise and fall of his chest. "He gave me girl advices, you believe that ?" he lets out in a whisper. "Fucking bastard actually told me to find myself a nice girl who could be a goddess in bed and in the kitchen, that it was all I really needed. When the guys told him I had no problem finding one, and that I had met you…"

She sees his hand closing in a fist against his side, his other arm covering his eyes. And, for one of the rare few times, particularly with Deeks, Kensi finds herself struggling _not_ to reach for him. She who has yelled at him so many times for his total lack of knowledge regarding personal space, suddenly craves for the contact. For her peace of mind or his, she's not quite sure.

Hers, definitely, when she feels her own fingers starting to tremble, her body flinching and reacting to the sight only of her partner, her strong, tough partner, slowly breaking down.

As her heart constricts again, she wonders if he feels the same, when she's the one doing reckless things, scaring him to death, and keeping pushing him away.

Regretting that, once again, she's the one hurting him, just like everyone she despises at LAPD do; just like his father that she has never met, did, too, starting this, getting Deeks to think that somehow, it was just the way things were.

She wants to say something, just for the sake of breaking the silence that sets between them every time he takes a minute to think, before he speaks again. But, in the end, she decides against it; lets him come to her, lets him lead, telling her whatever he wants to, keeping to himself the things he can't quite say right now.

"You ever wonder to what lengths you could go to ?" he asks, turning his head on the back of the couch to look at her, his blue eyes a stormy shade, despair and ache so intense it strikes her right to the core. "You know, what you would do for the sake of an op. What you have to do even if it kills you."

Isn't it what they _all_ wonder ? The question they won't ever find an answer to until they're faced with a situation when they simply _won't_ have enough time to think about it. "Sometimes. I try not to, though. Gives me a killer headache all the time."

"I've been Matthew before," he replies, and Kensi feels like her answer wasn't really needed, that, somehow, he just needed a way to introduce it. "Luckily, I've never – I've not done so _many_ terrible things. Things I'm ashamed of, things I wish I could erase and take back…But, last night…I was an inch away from having to really think about it, you know ?"

Kensi wants to say he has to stop being cryptic if he really wants her to understand. But, then, she thinks that maybe, it's not really what he wants. Maybe he only needs to voice those thoughts, maybe he doesn't want her to know exactly what he did or did not do the night before.

Maybe, deep down, a part of her is relieved he doesn't.

But relief only lasts for a little while. "We each had a girl. I – I _chose_ another one," he says, his voice so low she has to move closer to him, slowly enough so her new closeness doesn't unsettle him. "I couldn't have _them_…"

"Of course you couldn't," Kensi whispers, too, as she lays a comforting hand on his arm, her thumb running smooth circles on the skin there.

"They were all sexy smiles and everything, but, you could just see _it_. No spark, no gleam of life in there. Like, they knew they had to do so in order to stay alive. Maybe hoping that if they did everything they asked – everything _I_ asked…"

He runs a hand through his shorter brown hair, his fingers grasping thin air as he pulls at the strands. "You know, Penny Cook, she has a baby boy. Gonna turn three. When her husband came at the precinct, poor boy was crying, he couldn't calm him down. I took him for a walk. Gave him a tour of the place, let him draw on old reports taking the dust in my desk."

At that, Kensi lets out a small laugh. "You actually have a desk there ? What for ?"

"It's more like a closet. It's not like I really have a use for it, anyway. I do have to make reports for them, too, you know," he tells her, the ghost of a smile on his lips. "And, apparently, no one trusts me to do them at home so I have a desk to get them done with there."

She watches him carefully, allowing his smile to give her comfort, even for a little while; knowing that, somewhere, deep down, her Deeks is still there. And her Deeks is a fighter, he won't let anything take him down, at least, not without putting up a damn fight.

That's who he is, who they both are, and the reason why she wouldn't have it any other way. That, he knows; she wants no one but him by her side.

The hand on his arm has gone still, the light pressure just a solid reminder of her presence, a physical bond to let him know she's really there, and that he is, too; that last night is over and that he's here with her. That it's over.

_For_ _now_.

"Penny…she was a bit clumsy, I guess. Like she didn't exactly know what she was doing. I think she was trembling, too. And Avery…We drank a lot, last night," he insists again, his leg relentlessly shaking, so Kensi lets her hand slide to his knee to hold it. "He was completely trashed, it only got worse and worse with every drink he knocked. He wanted to take it to the next level."

Kensi's fingers close around his knee with much more strength than before, squeezing it almost painfully. Both of them welcome the pain without a word, though.

"She didn't want to. They were just there for the show, I guess it took her by surprise. She couldn't hide her fear or her disgust, or both, I don't know. When he tried to push her to her knees, she resisted. And he hit her. God, he slapped her," Deeks lets out, his voice shaky, still not believing it. "She stumbled. And…Marquez laughed. So I laughed, too. I – I held her son in my arms. I met her husband. I'm supposed to be the one on her side, the one coming to help, to _save_ her…And I laughed. I laughed, Kens."

She feels the heady taste of blood in her mouth, and only now realizes that she's bitten the inside of her cheek so hard it bled. But she gulps hard, ignoring the flash of pain and moves even closer, one hand reaching up to touch his jaw.

"You didn't laugh, Matt did. Had _he_ not, _you_ would have gotten in trouble. Had you done what I know you were dying to, getting up and beating the shit out of them, you wouldn't be here. And maybe these women wouldn't, either. You did what you had to."

"But –"

"No buts. Deeks," she sighs softly, her face so close to his he can feel it over his mouth. "You have to stop wondering about what could have been, what you could have done, had things gone differently. They didn't."

Her hand stills on his jaw, her thumb only tracing slow patterns. "But, the fact that you do wonder… It says a lot about you. And that, you can be proud of. That's what people say about Marty Deeks. That's what _I_ would say."


	16. Chapter 16

**Again, apologies for the delay. I'm plenty annoyed at my slow pace, trust me. This one has changed over and over again, the scene never wanting to be written down. I hope the final decision about how it goes still suits you. That said, I hope you enjoy. Thank you all and the amazing Twitter girls for the support.**

* * *

It's those moments that make Deeks wonder, wonder what it would be like to be Kensi Blye's special someone. He thinks he's not bragging when he dares think he is her best friend, and he just _knows_ she doesn't see him as a brother like she does with Sam and Callen. Good thing, because he clearly could _never_ see her as his sister. No surprise then that he would never allow her to pull the sibling act on for any cover.

But, right now, with her so close to him, her hand on his jaw, her finger stroking his skin, he can't help wondering if this is what she is like when she allows herself to be tender and loving. And, if she's ever been _since_ _Jack_. For some reason, he just can't picture a sweet Kensi with any of her serial dates; though, when he thinks about it, he hasn't heard her talk about any of them lately.

It's not like he dates much either.

Kensi's breath fanning over his mouth, he gulps hard. He couldn't form words to save his life, lost that he is in the beauty of her eyes and the intoxicating scent of her that he inhales with every quick intake of breath, his heart going crazy. She's too close, and yet, all he wants is to have her even _closer_, touch her face like her, and God, he wants to kiss her so badly.

He stares into her eyes, and for a second, a brief, shocking second, he reckons that's what she wants, too. Her eyes locked with his, her thumb still absently tracing his cheek, the corner of his mouth and the outline of his lip, Kensi swallows, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. "Because you have to do terrible things, doesn't mean you are a terrible person," she says softly.

"What if I told you I drank more than your weight and mine combined ?" he asks, his voice low and averting his eyes. "What if I said this woman kissed me and I let her and kissed her back ?"

Deeks turns his head away from her, and her hand falls from his jaw to his shoulder. Kensi can feel him shuddering, and if she's honest, the thought only makes her _sick_, too. Pain flashes through her, down her spine, crushing wave after another. And she's shocked herself to realize that, of all the emotions overwhelming her right now, ranging from compassion to what she can only name true heartache, there's something _else_.

Something she definitely wasn't ready to feel; something she has never admitted, even to herself, that she could feel toward him.

_Jealousy_.

Kensi realizes just how utterly wrong it is, from her, to feel this, but God help her, she _can't_ shrug it away. With everything she's found out about Matthew Sturridge, she knows he must have kissed thousands girls; she knows that she's definitely not the first woman he has backed up against a wall, pinning her with his lean body, the thought only making her knees tremble. And one look at her partner just _screams_ at her that he, too, must have had his fair share of girls queuing in line to kiss him – hell, even _fighting_ to get to the first place. Kensi has already felt that pang in her heart, denying it back then, refusing to acknowledge what it really meant. She had tried, oh so hard, to convince herself that it was just surprise, mixed with the unpleasant feeling of being kept in the dark, the lines between her partner and Max Gentry so hard to define, getting blurred under her very eyes. She had tried to ignore Callen's persistent gaze, once again refusing to see what it conveyed, behind the concern about Deeks and those past lives he had lived, just like any of them.

And, how does it strike her oh so hard now, when she realizes that more than a year and a half later, she still can't forget it, how her mind keeps replaying the scene again and again, her partner, her friend, _her_ _Deeks_ kissing another woman, his lips meshing with hers, her hand resting and gripping his…

She can't have him kissing _any_ woman.

And it's not that she wants to be the only woman he would kiss; it's just that she doesn't want any _other_ woman to be. No more Nicoles, no more blonde hotties, and _God_, no more innocent women driving him closer to insanity, paving his way faster to the hell he thinks he deserves.

Kensi lets her hand wander, squeezing his shoulder lightly, tracing the length of his arm with one finger before drifting up until her hand rests on the nape of his neck, her fingers toying with the small curls still there. Deeks looks back at her, his eyes this stormy blue she can't quite hate, though she wants to; she knows that Deeks is a better liar than her on the paper, but his eyes and their ever changing shade always speak volumes.

There's not one she doesn't find absolutely _gorgeous_, though.

"You both did what you _had_ to, what you were expected to do," she finally says. "She was there to entertain Matthew, and he was supposed to enjoy it. What would have happened, if you had pushed her back ?" she asks softly, still cradling his neck, her thumb stroking the skin there.

He looks puzzled for a second before he swallows hard and nods, quickly figuring out where she's heading. "The guys would have had found it suspicious. Or Marquez would have done something to her because she wasn't good enough. I couldn't let that happen."

Kensi gives him a smile, a small but bright, genuine smile. "So you did what the situation required. In the end, that's not what will matter the most. I swear to you, Deeks" she whispers, leaning in and touching her forehead lightly with his.

Shifting until she's on her knees, sitting on her heels, Kensi lets her free hand join the other, one cupping his jaw, the other still stroking the silky hair at the nape of his neck. "When we get them all out of this, when we save them, Deeks…" she goes on, her eyes locked with his, their noses bumping, their breaths mingling through surprised, parted lips. "It won't matter. The only thing they'll see is that you were the one who saved them."

In retrospect, Kensi reckons she should have heard a chorus of warning bells way before even reaching this stage. Why on earth would she, of all people, be this cuddly and with her _partner_, dammit ? And why, dear God, oh why does it feel so familiar, so _right_ ? Why, though he looks nothing like what she's used to with him, can she still see the golden curls in her head, the scruff she misses so bad under her questing fingertips ? Warning bells can do so much, though. What are they, anyway, compared to the soft gleam back in his eyes, the feeling, oh so sweet feeling warming up her heart ?

The voices screaming in her head be damned. She presses a kiss on his cheek, her lips lingering there for a moment longer than needed. Reluctantly, she eventually leans back, offering him a sweet smile before sitting back on her end of the couch, her legs tucked underneath her. Deeks looks at her with a somewhat stunned expression, caught between the obvious surprise and, if the soft pink spreading over his skin is any indication, the tiniest hint of embarrassment.

Not that he does really care.

* * *

"The perks of being one of the good guys, I suppose ?" he asks, reaching tentatively with his fingers to touch his cheek, the feel of her lips still intact. He wonders if he will ever forget it.

She looks down at her lap, finding her Twinkie there ever so interesting, as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. _This has to stop_, the voices in her head keep saying, but Kensi can't quite find it in her to do so. Now the feelings are uncovered, the truth lying out there naked for the both of them to see, she'd rather say it all; because she needs to – she needs him to know that, just like he's the only one she trusts, he can trust her to be there, too. _No matter what_.

She needs him to know what he means to her, and how she truly sees him.

Of course he's a good man. Hell, one of the very damn best. He thinks he's doomed to fail this, fail her, but Kensi knows better. If someone can do this, it's _him_; if someone can still get up and walk after everything he's seen, everything he's done, then it's him. It's _always_ him. Others would have given up long, long ago; others, like his friend, Ray, even given less chances, could have still tried, but never did. Ray and Deeks, best of friends, yet showed how almost brotherly bond wasn't quite enough, and could lead to polar opposites, in the way they led their lives.

Both came from the same neighborhood, and learned at a very young age that behind the luxuriously, sparkling Hollywood sign, laid things many people chose to shut their eyes upon. Not so far away from the beautiful beaches of white sand, the five-stars hotels and those mansions celebrities lived in, houses so huge they looked like castles for little kids, was a side of Los Angeles that tourists, and even inhabitants, would spent their time ignoring, turning their heads and looking away.

Kensi doesn't know much about her partner's childhood, yet, she knows plenty enough to try and imagine what it must have been like for him and his best friend, growing up there. The area wasn't the worst, she figured out long ago; both were raised by failures of fathers, giving them the worst example ever.

Yet, she remembers the look in Ray's eyes, all those months ago, when he told Deeks he was going to be a dad. That, he wouldn't make the same mistakes their own fathers made, that he would be the best father any child, _his_ _child_, deserved. But, above all, she has committed to memory the expression on her partner's face, lost and confused, and, masked behind, the longing. Not for him, but for his best friend to finally get what they never had.

It simply _kills_ her that he still doubts he is a good man after that.

She just can't accept that he doesn't see it. He could have followed Ray's steps, he could have become one of those people he has dedicated his life putting behind bars. Granted, for the little she knows him, Ray seems to be a good guy, too; he may have made some mistakes, taken the wrong way, but still, Deeks valued his friendship, and it was everything Kensi needed to know. She just wants him so badly to get that Ray had the same chance he had, when his mother married his step-dad. The two of them spent so much time together Ray could have tried more.

Kensi wants him – needs him to see that: at some point, somehow, he made the decision to become the honorable man he is now. Against all odds, defying everyone's expectations, Marty Deeks, ex-troublemaker, lazy, laidback kid, put his act together and became the man sitting just next to her, ready to take all the blame, and carry the weight of the world on his shoulders just so it's a lot easier for everyone else.

Kensi wants to say it, but words just don't come out. Twice this evening, in a ridiculously short amount of time, words have failed her; first, they morphed into an unexpected hug, and just now, in a lingering, innocent kiss, still carrying so much meaning.

And how ridiculous it is that she can still feel those damn butterflies fluttering low in her belly.

Words never really were her friends, anyway. He's definitely the talker in this relationship of theirs, he's the one always pushing, trying to make her talk and voice aloud those scary thoughts running in her mind. Deeks is always there, coaxing her gently into confessing, admitting anything there is to say, her fears, her emotions. Some would almost say it's a labor of love, because he keeps trying, giving everything that he is in the battle, for so little results. Only on very few rare occasions did he really manage to make her talk, even if, _every single damn time_, she's so close to the edge, so close to giving in, too. But, she always refuses to; always denies herself the right to find comfort in him – hell, even to need that comfort.

Some pair they are, she thinks sadly. So she clears her throat and looks up again, eyes locking instantly. "I can't promise it'll be easy. It never is. But I swear, Deeks, I'll be there. You and I, we're a team. Don't you dare think you can get rid of me that easily."

No trace of humor in her voice, her tone resolute, and her gaze still firmly locked with his, she bites on her lip before she speaks again. "And, for the record – there's nowhere else I'd rather be, and _no_ _one_ _else_ with whom I'd want to be now. I know everything's gonna be fine because it's you and me."

* * *

Those gorgeous blue eyes, tormented just a while ago, soften at her words. Following her lead, Deeks forgets about those false pretenses of theirs, the easy resort to teasing and using comedy to dispel the tension, or tonight, the meaning behind their every word. "I don't like that it has to be you," he replies honestly. "I don't want to be Matt with you. It's harder _because_ it's you."

"I don't like that you have to act like such a jerk, either," Kensi says softly. "But we can do this. It can't always be nice, almost vacation-like ops, you know. Like when we were married."

She feels the soft blush starting spreading up from her neck to her cheeks. Kensi knows she shouldn't have said that; not because she's afraid Deeks will tease her about it, twist her words or go and tell the guys, but because it reminds her of a certain moment spent on the couch, back at their _home_. She remembers oh so well those brief three weeks as Melissa, and above all, those tiny, fleeting moments when Kensi just couldn't stay at bay and needed to barge in. Moments of _weakness_, when she admitted to him that maybe, deep down, that life wasn't as terrible as she thought it would. More, than maybe she liked it, wanted it for her, too.

And she's almost tired enough of pretending, that she allows herself to admit in her own head that, _maybe_, she would want that, but only with him.

"Being – _playing_ your wife, wasn't that hard." Kensi says, her fingers almost shaking on her lap. "Maybe because we were still us, a bit. _Justin_ was cheesy, but, charming in a way. And, _Melissa_," she tentatively adds, "she liked that. Even if she let him do all the hard work. Bianca and Matt… it's gonna be a little harder, okay. But it's just another cover, Deeks. It's the job, you can't worry about that. We have enough else to lose sleep over."

He gives her a smile that almost borders on his signature smirk. He can't let that one go, _of course he can't_. But Kensi doesn't care that much, because it had the expected effect, lighting up considerably the atmosphere. "We had the sweet life, yeah. Well, _you_ had." he teases.

Cocking an eyebrow, Kensi flashes him a grin. "I'm sorry, what ? Tell me you didn't enjoy all those nicknames you just couldn't help but give me, or those sundresses !"

He stares at her instantly, all of a sudden; eyes roaming down her body, a darker shade than just before. He can't really hide it, nor does he really want to. God, yes, all those dresses, all those so girly things _his_ _wife_ did… The giggling, the blushing, the touching. Their fictive marriage had left him with a wish for something more, dangerously reawaken every time she had had to put on a nice dress for an op ever since. Tonight, again, with that silky red dress, that bow tied up at her waist that he knows – _God, he knows,_ he would just have had to pull so the fabric would fall from her slender body… And that assorted headband, lost in the tangle of brown curls, this bright red illuminating every glint of every tendril.

Melissa was his – Justin's. They never had to put on that much of a great show. But Bianca…Backing her against the wall, allowing his hands to wander and touch skin they never had, was so, _so_ much harder. As Justin and Melissa, they had gotten lots of time alone – spent, as far as their nosey neighbors were concerned, leading the sweet life of a married couple. Husbands and wives weren't expected to touch each other all the time, the honeymoon phase now morphed into routine. Sure, Deeks had loved every single minute of it, the sweet, cheesy names, the kisses on the cheek when people could see them, but, all in all, all of those were pretty _innocent_. That one kiss in Bret and Polina's dining room had been the only exception to their implicit ground rules, the best way to end their weeks as a happy married couple.

Bianca ? That was another story. The exact _opposite_, really. Lots of displays, if definitely not of affection, at least of serious indecency. And, Matthew was clearly not the boyfriend material that normal, sane girls looked for.

And that made it all so much harder to have her with him, when confronted to other people. Oh, so harder to tell her what Matt's plans are for the week-end, because he just knows she will want to go with him; of course she will. And, even if he spent hours thinking of reasons against it, he has never been quite able to find one.

One thing he is sure of, with absolute clarity, is that he really, really doesn't want her anywhere near Esteban Marquez. Avery and Jackson, he can deal with; they're no evil masterminds, just somewhat lost guys who made mistake after mistake. Deep down, they're not _bad_ guys. Marquez, with his twisted vision of life, sort of made him sick.

"What's on your mind, Deeks ?" Kensi asks, her voice barely above a whisper. Ever so gently, she lays her hand again on his arm. "Is there something else you haven't told me yet ?"

He remains silent for a whole minute, contemplating not telling her. The day after next, Matthew is supposed to attend a party at the Marquez Mansion, Alesha's Sweet Sixteen party. If the afternoon will be all about the young girl and her friends, the dinner will be the occasion for him to meet Sebastian Marquez who, according to his son, is really eager to meet him.

And, he could totally come with his beautiful girlfriend, Esteban had said.

Which was, obviously, among all, what worried him the most.

Deeks wasn't worried about her safety. He knew that no one, even Marquez, would ever dare touch anyone Matthew Sturridge brought over. It wasn't that they were afraid of him, no; it just wasn't the way they would deal with betrayal. If someone was ever to find out he wasn't who he pretended he was, they wouldn't even think of trying to find leverage to hurt him. Matthew was a loner, all in all; it would be almost impossible to find someone he really cared for, someone he loved. Matt jumped from one girl's bed to another, his family only consisted in an uncle who was never really there, and who was unreachable most of the time.

Bringing the same girl home, twice in a row, was somehow the longest relationship he ever had.

And it had to be Kensi, of course.

* * *

In the end, he decides not to share. After all, tomorrow is another day. He can always tell her tomorrow, he thinks; right now, he only wants to feel normal again, shrug Matt off his system, the alcohol along. He's plain exhausted, his head hurts at the throbbing pain of his blood racing in his veins, and, if he's honest with himself for a second, he only needs her by his side, lying close to him in bed, to feel better.

Kensi yawns, the hand covering her mouth not quite enough to hold it back. "We're both tired, Kens. Go to bed, I'll clean this up, take a shower, and then I'll join you."

She's about to say something, but stops dead in tracks, red spreading over her cheeks again at the thought only of sharing the bed. She covers it by stealing another Twinkie from the tray and takes it, carrying it back to the kitchen. She catches a glimpse of the clock on the wall. "3 a.m. Luckily, I don't have to show up at work tomorrow. You think the guys can take a hint and let us spend the day alone?"

He stops at his door, hand on the knob. "They wouldn't just show up here. We should be okay. But – you don't _have_ to stay, you know."

Kensi doesn't answer, and just switches off the lights on her way to him. Reaching the door, she faces him and gives him a quizzical look. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you don't want to see me, Deeks." She puts her hand on the one around the door handle, but he reaches to her with his free hand, lightly resting it on her hip.

"Believe me, Kens. If I had a choice, I'd rather stay locked up in here with you, than go out and be Matt," he says, looking at her in the eye, his fingers gently curling around her hip. "Of course I'm happy to see you."

Beaming at him, a gleam in her eye he has never seen directed at him, she opens the door and walks to the bed, crawling under the sheets. "If you don't take too long, I might consider sharing the right side," she calls out without turning to look at him.

Ten minutes later, Kensi is already fast asleep, sprawled in the middle of the bed. Deeks comes out of the bathroom and silently walks to the bed, trying hard not to press too much on the mattress as he slips in right next to her. Stretching an arm, he gently wraps it around her waist, and with one hand on her stomach, he slowly pulls her flush against him, on the right side.

He's startled awake a couple times during the night, the sound of Kensi's light piglet snoring right by his ear as she lays almost on top of him, her body curled up to his, face nuzzled in his neck, arms and legs a tangle of limbs.

Melissa, Bianca, Kensi; wife, girlfriend, or partner, whoever she is now, she definitely is a cuddler. And, he thinks as her lips brush the skin of his shoulder as she moves, he doesn't mind in the slightest.


	17. Chapter 17

**As usual, thanks to the awesome Twitter girls, and all of you.**

* * *

Kensi comes awake first, the soft sun beams piercing through the shutters caressing her cheek. She tilts her face, trying to avoid them, only to nestle deeper into warm, delicious skin. She lets herself enjoy it as she comes to her senses; enjoy the sweet scent she inhales with every breath, and the soft skin her lips and fingers get to brush.

His own arm anchors her to place, tucked under the fabric of her sleepshirt, his hand on the small of her back. Ever slowly, Kensi opens her eyes and lifts her face up, and the sight before her just about has the brightest smile tugging at her lips. Deeks is still lost in the depths of sleep, messy short curls sprawled over his forehead, a small, lazy smile on his lips. Even asleep, his mouth forms the cutest pout, and it would be so easy for Kensi to just crane her neck and kiss him she finds it really hard _not_ to. Instead, she focuses on the steady rise and fall of his chest bumping hers and lets her fingers dance where they are, her arm loosely draped over him, too, her hand stroking down his ribcage.

It's then only that she realizes how _ridiculously_ close they are, her lips brushing his throat, her head tucked under his chin just a few moments before. It dawns on her with vivid clarity that if someone had tried to warn her about the risks of undercover, about how lines could get blurred when feelings were involved, unfamiliar feelings bubbling to the surface; well, she wouldn't have believed them. Mocked them, or punched them, more likely.

She knows those feelings have been there for quite some time now, being just _harder_ to deny with every passing day.

Somehow though, she can't help feeling that little pang at her heart, knowing that she – that they _both_ needed those dark times to let them grow, let them _show_. And yet, they're still so far from acknowledging them to each other, voicing them, the concern, the ache, and, dare she say it, the affection and the tenderness that border on what she knows she can only name this crazy little thing called _love_.

She doesn't know if she's ready to say it yet. But, Kensi _definitely_ feels it; feels the way her heart, which she had assumed was locked for good, had slowly started warming up to her infuriating but so endearing partner. How, somehow, someday, Marty Deeks had stopped being just a maddening guy forced on her by Hetty, to slowly become someone – _the_ _one_ _person_, really, she just _can't_ live without. Now, every fiber of her being absolutely craved for his presence; Kensi was used to seeing him every day, and those nights out after work had sometimes turned into not so unfortunate encounters on week-ends, too. Kensi would bump into Deeks at the beach, or he would show up at her favorite coffee shop. Both never acknowledged those meetings, none ready to admit that those weren't coincidences.

Marty Deeks was still the same maddening guy she had met, two years and a half ago. But, now she had learned to love that in him, learned to let herself appreciate those teasing, flirty jokes he threw her way, those deep, gorgeous blue eyes of his that could have her knees buckle hard, just at the intensity of their gaze. Kensi had learned to be okay with Deeks affecting her more than she let on, because, deep down, it felt too good to deny it. Granted, she still did; none in a billion years would she ever admit _to_ him just how much he could drive her crazy, but, now, she was done running away from the truth, done denying it to herself.

Kensi Blye knew and had grown to accept the idea that she was indeed _embarrassingly_ in love with Marty Deeks. Some days, it was quite hard to deal with, and others, it was damn _impossible_. But, on that morning, looking up at him, curled up into his warm embrace, it just felt _right_.

She looks at those brown curls on his forehead, and his almost tamed hair, now just a bit tousled. She thinks they strike – Deeks with his delicious, golden toffee tan and hair, and those gorgeous eyes, azure or cerulean or deep as the ocean, but always incredibly beautiful; and her, with her darker complexion and features, her dark chocolate waves and eyes. His hair and smile and eyes, as bright as day, just look oh so better when they're together, contrasting with her own. Kensi thinks they look good together – and, she remembers with a smile, they're used to people telling them just that. Random people assuming they're a couple, or neighbors thinking they're the cutest couple ever.

She loves how much they strike. But, right now, even with those brown locks, and without the scruff they usually mock him for, she still can't help the furious beat of her heart, pounding like mad against the walls of her chest. It doesn't change the way she feels. It doesn't make it easier to let go, but she finally does. Reluctantly, she leans back, and she drops a quick kiss to his jaw – _just_ _a_ _light_, _innocent_, _friendly_ _peck_ – the pressure barely there, and slowly extricates herself from his arms. She shifts her body until she's out of his welcoming grasp, trying hard not to let his quiet moan affect her, leading her right back into the warmth of his lean body.

She leaves the room without turning back, or else she knows just what she would do.

* * *

Still lost in his current state of drowsiness – Deeks certainly can't say he's had a restful night of sleep, he feels her slip away. But the migraine pulsing in his head and the general fatigue his body is going through keep him from reacting. He feels the sudden absence of her warmth and scent hit him hard in the chest, but the thoughts running through his head don't allow him to come awake completely. His low moan – honest to God, it comes out as nothing but a _whimper_, is the only thing he manages to get out before dipping his face deeper in his pillow, his fingers, once resting on her back, now curling in thin air before his hand falls onto the empty spot on the mattress.

He feels the softness of her lips on his skin, but instantly knows the feeling won't linger.

Her soothing breath and her sheer presence hadn't been enough to lure him into sleep. Whenever he felt himself drifting deeper into this blissful haze of oblivion, thoughts and shivers had kept him awake, only allowing him to catch a few minutes of rest.

With Kensi in his arms, happy to be curled up there – _willingly_ wrapped into him, he couldn't help but think of that woman. She was beautiful, he thinks. No woman really stood out, compared to his partner, but this one really was. And the fact that she wasn't part of the list, the dreaded faces and names he came across every time he entered LAPD's headquarters, hadn't helped. He had hoped it would, but the look on her face, so similar to the one on Penny Cook or Lisa Stein's…He knew what it meant, knew what had happened to her, and that because no one had reported her missing, didn't mean she hadn't gone through what he can only imagine. He knew then that _he_ was going to do what he fought so hard to keep from happening.

She had leaned into him, her long blond hair falling in cascades around her pretty face, one knee braced on each side of him, straddling his lap. His hands had automatically laid on her hips, spanning her small waist, and he had watched her squirming and undulating on him, those emerald green eyes of hers locked with his, gauging his every reaction.

When her lips had found his, he just didn't know what to do. Thinking of Kensi, he had immediately put her in the farthest corner of his mind, or else he would have just left right then and there. Kensi was his conscience, his pillar; thinking of her wasn't a luxury he could afford. So he had just prayed – really _prayed_, that she could find it in her to forgive him.

She had said the night before that it didn't matter. And, lying in bed, blissfully snuggled to him, he had believed her. He just couldn't find it in _him_ to forgive himself.

He had kissed that woman back, let his hands roam over her body and groan when her own had drifted up and down his arms and chest. Matt would have, he rationalized. But, it didn't help swallow the pill in the slightest. He still felt incredibly sick, and _dirty_.

Alcohol didn't help. They had drunk so much they hadn't made it out of the club before early this morning. They had kept drinking all night, the _fun_ never coming to an end, and Marquez had just offered to keep the party going, saying they could stay as long as they wanted. Alcohol still flooded his system now, hence the terrible migraine wrecking his entire body, every nerve ending paralyzed in pain.

He hates to admit it, but he _needed_ it, though. For once, he had knocked all his shots in no time, trying to wash away the feeling of filth he had in his mouth from crossing that one line between doing his job and losing his soul. Deeks had done his own fair share of horrible things through the years, but his months as Matthew Sturridge had always been what nightmares were made of.

Ever since he left the academy, standing proud in his uniform, shiny badge and young, naïve ideals and hopes at heart, and then became a detective, working undercover, Deeks had had to do many things. _Everything_, really. But, he had found very early on that doing drugs or alcohol or getting a beating were nothing – _nothing_, compared to the feeling of hurting others. The shame, the guilt. Drinking until it hurt, or being blown up in an explosion, didn't stand the comparison.

Avery had slapped that woman, and he had laughed.

Nothing could ever change that.

* * *

"Wow, shit," Kensi gasps as she jerks her hand away, letting the lid fall on the hob. She shakes her hand in the air quickly, the weak attempt to cool it down a failure. Biting her lip in order to hold back the tears gathering at the corner of her eyes, she leaves the mess behind her to put her hand under the spray of water.

There she sees it, the pot-holder mocking her.

Of course she knows she should have used it, she's not completely stupid. She's just totally helpless in the kitchen. Her own alimentation consists in take-outs or frozen food, or the sweets and candy her partner makes sure of always having around. Kensi just didn't think the water had boiled yet, and now, her little surprise was all ruined.

She had already burned the first few toasts, all too busy that she was looking for tea in his cupboard. She was surprised to find any actually, because Deeks wasn't that fond of Hetty's favorite drink. But Kensi had figured tea would be better than coffee for that headache he was surely nursing, even though he hadn't said a thing about it. She could see right past through the façade; after all, Deeks wasn't the only one to know his partner by heart, reading through the lines and just knowing when to push, when to step back, and when she really needed him to be there, no matter what she said.

He had spent the night drinking, and she figured he must have not slept before going out again. Added to the general fatigue she knew he was going through, no rest in the place she was sure he didn't like being in, no way out to relax – no trip to the beach, no surfing, and she knew deep down that the company of Monty had to mean a lot, Kensi was afraid Deeks was walking down a dangerous road. She knew just how much easier it was to pretend everything was fine, testing the limits and pushing, _pushing_ harder and stepping out of them until you simply couldn't anymore.

She didn't want Deeks to feel like he _had_ to do this, alone.

_She_ had to, she rationalizes. Right after her dad died, or when Jack left, she had been alone. No one could possibly understand what she was going through. She can only guess that it has been the same for him, until they met. Now, they had each other, no ? They were together, they had each other's back, in and out of the job. It had to go both ways, Deeks wouldn't be the only one always offering to be there, always coaxing her into sharing much more than she first intended, things she had actually _never_ shared.

Now it was her turn to be there. _Be_ _there_.

Now, looking at the mess that her attempt to fix breakfast was, Kensi only hoped she would be better at being there than she had been until now.

Kensi watches the red burn on her hand. Small mark, and the pain was now dull, but not as throbbing as just a few minutes ago. Sighing, she gathers breakfast on a tray and carries it, holding it between her arm and hip. As silently as possible, she pushes Deeks' bedroom door open, and for a second, she reckons he's awake.

As she comes closer to the bed, she realizes he's not. Now lying on his back, she can see him taking shallow intakes of breath, his chest heaving quickly. His face, tilted to her on his pillow, looks contortioned with the look of someone being caught up in a horrible nightmare, but never able to wake up from it. Kensi disposes of the tray on his desk and sits on his edge of the bed, lifting a hand to his chest. "Hey, Deeks. Everything's fine. Just wake up, it's me, Kensi."

He doesn't, and Kensi runs her hand up and down his chest in smoothing patterns, whispering sweet nothings. "I'm right here, Deeks. Just open your eyes. It's just a bad dream. Come back – come back to me."

She has to call out to him another three times before he finally wakes up. And, the look on his face, his hollow gaze, his features stuck in a lost expression just remind Kensi of another time, another man. Other demons, other nightmares, so many nights doing just this, waking up to find Jack fidgeting in bed, sometimes screaming or kicking her in his sleep. She sees Deeks blinking his lashes, slowly getting used to the dim light coming from the living-room and piercing in the room, and making out her shape, recognizing her.

"Hey," she says softly, her hand never stopping its movements. Deeks tries to sit up, but she stops him. "Don't move. Just stay there, I made breakfast."

She bends and reaches for the remote control on the nightstand, opening the blinds, letting the bright, blinding winter sun come in. "You okay, now ? You want a glass of water or something ?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm okay," Deeks nods. Easing down on his elbows, he leans back to rest his back against the headboard. He closes his eyes again and takes a deep breath to calm down. "I really am okay now, Kens." He reaches for her hand, circling his fingers around her wrist, but Kensi winces.

Deeks turns her hand, taking a look at her open palm. His eyes go wide with surprise and concern. "God, Kens, what happened ? We need to take care of that." He doesn't let her fuss like he knows she will, and he's on his feet within a second. He feels dizzy, but shrugs it away and takes her by the arm, dragging her softly in the bathroom. Deeks sits her on the edge of the bathtub, kneels in front of her and takes her hand in his again.

"It's nothing, Deeks. Really." Kensi insists. "I hardly held the lid for a second. I'm not gonna die."

"You put it under the water, right ?" he asks, ignoring her last comment. "More than a couple minutes ? Because you're Wonder Woman, doesn't mean you heal any faster than us mortals." She snorts, and he ignores it again. "It's not that bad. We're gonna put some cream on it and it should be fine."

"Told you so."

He smiles weakly, a small, almost sad smile on his lips. "Can you squeeze my hand ?" he asks.

Kensi frowns, puzzled, but tries. The pain is sharp, the burn mark right in the middle of her palm. Deeks sees it, reaches for the cupboard under the sink and comes up with a tube of cream. Gently, slowly, he massages it on her palm, his fingertips soft on her burnt skin. "It's your gun hand, Kens. _That's_ your superpower. And now, you can't even hold my hand."

He focuses on her hand way longer than needed, even when there's no cream anymore to rub. She knows he refuses to meet her gaze, look up at her and let her see just how affected he can be by a stupid _accident_. Because that's what it is, an accident, and still, she just knows he's somehow blaming himself; like it's his fault that she stupidly hurt herself. Kensi knows that those issues of his with guilt can't be rationalized, no matter what she says. He won't admit that she could have done just that at home, alone; or, that a simple kitchen drama has nothing to do with getting hurt in the middle of working a case.

"You're alone out there, Kens," he goes on, now looking at her, truthful, dead serious blue eyes meeting brown. "I know Callen and Sam are there, and that they look out for you. But, you and I…we're supposed to be together. And when I'm here, you're alone out there. I need you to be _really_ fine. And, I know you can hold your ground just fine without me, but –"

"You're my partner, Deeks. Of course I'd rather have you out there with me. But, it's just a small burnt," she tries to reassure him.

"Right now, you can't fire your gun. It _is_ a big deal, Kens."

She takes in his sweaty forehead, the curls there and at the nape of his neck sticking to his skin. His face and skin, usually so tanned, are now paler than ever, as pale as they were when she sat by his hospital bed. Slowly, she lifts her unharmed hand and wipes the hair from his face. "What about you, then ? You don't look _really_ _fine_."

He smiles and gives a last pat to her hand before getting up. "Of course I'm fine. It's not every day that a beautiful girl makes me breakfast in bed."

Kensi lets it go, only this one time, she promises herself. She watches him eat eagerly her poor excuse of breakfast, and by the time he's done drinking his tea, she's almost satisfied with the color of his face.

And then she asks the question that has been wandering inside her head since the night before. "So…what are the plans for the week-end ? We stay in bed, or…?"

He swallows hard, and turns to look at her. "I'm not sure it's a good idea that we spend so much time together. Matt's not really the girlfriend/boyfriend kind of guy."

She cocks an eyebrow at his lame excuse. "You said it yourself, Marquez thinks it'd be good for you to settle down. And, besides, it's not like you need to be faithful. The few nights I'm not there, you can do your thing."

"Why do you want to stay here this bad ?" he asks, genuinely wondering, and – _surprised_, maybe.

Kensi lets out a heavy sigh. "Repeat that to anyone, and I'll make sure you both take that to the grave," she warns – _threatens_ him. "But…you're my partner, right ? So everywhere you go, I should, too. But, this time…I see you _every_ _day_, Deeks. Almost. And, now – now you think you can ask me to just back off, and stay in OSP, or work without you ? You seriously think I'm better off alone, that I don't miss your stupid, annoying jokes, and you stealing my candy and –"

She stops, partly out of embarrassment, and lack of air. Kensi looks at his face, his eyes soft and this calm blue, and she softens, too. "What I meant is, there's quite no place else I'd rather be. So, what are we gonna do this week-end ?"

Upon seeing her determination, Deeks surrenders. When does he doesn't, he wonders. "We're gonna attend a dinner at the Marquezs. Tomorrow night. But," he starts, his tone more serious, "I want you to ask Hetty first. If she thinks it's not a good idea that you stay here with me, or if she thinks it's too dangerous, you go home."

"You don't want me here ?" Kensi asks. She knows it's not fair, and that it's not what he meant. She knows it.

And he knows she knows it, so he doesn't fall in the trap. "Keep talking like that, and I'll start thinking you _really_ do want to stay in bed with me. That's okay, though. No problem with that."

Breaking her promise, Kensi lets this one go, too. She gets up, grabs her phone and leaves the room, but with the deepest shade of pink on her cheeks once she has her back to him. And when he leaves the room, freshly showered and dressed, she forgets about her phone call and gives him the brightest smile, saying Hetty is okay with her plan.

What Hetty doesn't know can't really hurt her, right ?

* * *

Sunday afternoon comes quickly, and after passing by Kensi's place – after lots of driving around, checking for possible tails – for her to grab some fresh clothes and get ready for dinner, Deeks and Kensi head to the Marquez Mansion.

It's a huge house, one of those Deeks wanted so badly to live in when he was a little kid, one that looked like the ones his fellow classmates from law school lived in. It's huge, and imposing and beautiful, with a long alley leading to the front door, surrounded by bushes of flowers. The winter sun is slowly setting down, and Deeks can only imagine how much more gorgeous it would look like in the middle of summer, the roses a deep red or yellow, the leaves shining under the sun beams. The alley and porch are illuminated by Chinese lanterns, pink and purple and blue and mint and every candy shade, and banners reading _Happy Birthday, Princesa, _literallyeverywhere_._

They walk down the alley, Deeks' arm around her waist, a gift in the other. Giving a quick look her way, he can't help staring at her, illuminated that she is by the lanterns and the last shreds of sun. She's far more dressed than she's been until now, but to him, she has never looked as beautiful. Her velvet-like black dress goes to the knees, but with a deep slit at her back, stopping just at the small of her back. Kensi is wearing silver jewelry and assorted heels, still shorter than him, though. He wonders how she does that, so tall that she is, but maybe it's because she's so slender and has legs to kill for that he feels that way. She's tall, but not _that_ tall, heels or not, and he's happy to notice that she's still short enough so he could tuck her head under his chin. If that situation was ever required, he chooses to think.

They've not even reached the door that it swings open, revealing a beaming girl rushing out. A smile tugs at his own lips upon seeing her. She looks just like he imagined she would be, and God help him, he has done that a lot. How many times had Deeks turned around to give a second look to a young girl at the beach or the mall, he can't quite keep count. One time, it was the eyes, the family emerald green shining on some girl's face; another one, it was the dark waves, or the pout, or the loud giggle. Whenever he came across a girl with deep chocolate hair, green eyes and those girly habits he had grown to love, he thought of Alesha.

He thought of her, and hoped deep down that she was happy and alright. Deeks knew he shouldn't care, or, at least not that much; but he simply _couldn't_ help it. That little girl, now older, was still _his_ little girl. Every day for months, he had taken care of her; gone to pick her up at school, help her with her homework, sitting at the counter of her father's bar. When Alvaro was too busy, or out of town, Deeks was the one to tell her goodnight before the maids and housekeeper took over. For months, Alvaro had trusted him with his little princess, and Deeks hadn't been able to _not_ care. How could he, when Alesha looked up at him like a friend, an older brother, and maybe, as time went by, some Prince Charming she had had her first crush upon.

Now, four years later, at age sixteen, Alesha still seemed to be totally smitten. Deeks barely has time to take in her appearance, the round cheeks still there, the hair shorter, but still as curly, the fluffy pink _Birthday_ _Girl_ tiara on top of her head, that she runs to him and throws herself at his neck. She buries her head in his neck and he wraps his arms around her, lifting her off her feet. She giggles, and it hits him – God, he has missed that laugh.

He has missed this little girl he used to love. Her beaming smiles, her hugs, how she always used to coax him into doing anything she wanted. Alesha had always had him wrapped around her little finger.

That reminds him of another girl he knows.

"I'm so happy you're there," she squeals, hugging him just a bit tighter before he lets her go and puts her back on her feet. She turns her head and finally acknowledges Kensi's presence. "Oh, hi! _Teban_ said you would come with someone."

Deeks laughs quietly at the childish nickname. "Ally, this is Bianca."

Alesha gives her a smile that Kensi reciprocates easily. But then she focuses all her attention back on Deeks, tugging at his hand to lead them inside. The house is as pretty inside, decorated and illuminated, flowers and candles on every coffee table and shelf. As they pass the entrance hall, they can hear laughter and voices, Alesha's latest guests and friends still there mixed with others, family friends, business partners.

He recognizes a couple of Alesha's friends, and once again, it dawns on him just how long four years can be, and yet, how it still seems like it was only yesterday when he would see those girls at school while picking Alesha up. He kisses them hello on the cheek, much to Jessica and Dana's delight, and shakes some hands, people he knew from Alvaro's era. He spots quickly that neither Sebastian nor Esteban are there for now, so Deeks introduces Kensi to every each one of them, and she immediately wins them over. Wives and girlfriends gather around her, welcoming her in their tight group. Deeks gives her one last look, and as he sees no threat, he lets Alesha drag him to the couch.

She sits next to him and snuggles to his side, and he wraps an arm around her shoulders. "I was so happy when Teban said you were back. I have missed you so, so much. With Daddy gone, and you, too…" She sniffles lightly.

"I've missed you too, Ally," he says honestly, squeezing her shoulders. "I'm happy to see you. Bianca and I have a little gift for you," he adds, handing her the little box.

She takes it and struggles with the red ribbon, finally tearing it to open the box, revealing a chain bracelet with her name graved on it, along with a _happy birthday_. "Oh, thanks, Matt, it's gorgeous," she says, her smile bigger and brighter, as she leans in to drop a kiss on his cheek. He clasps the bracelet around her wrist, and with one last kiss, she gets up and walks to Kensi.

To say that Kensi is surprised when Alesha wraps her arms around her and hugs her is the understatement of the year. "Thanks for the bracelet," she says. She turns to the women Kensi was talking with and shows them her gift, and they do gush politely.

Forgotten, Kensi makes her way back to Deeks, sitting on his lap. He playfully cocks an eyebrow at her and she just shrugs it off, watching around. "No sign of Marquez, father and son ?"

"Nope. You found new girlfriends to hang out with ?"

She looks back at the women she was just chatting with. "They seem nice. It's – it's so _wrong_, you know ?" she says as she lets a hand lift to his shoulder, stroking up and down his arm. "They _are_ nice. They probably don't even know what their men do. It would be so much easier if they were bad people."

He thinks of Alesha and his feelings toward her. Her father, uncle and cousin are bad men, but she's still the sweetest little girl he's ever known, all innocent and pure and joyful he can't help loving her and caring about her. It's not her fault she was born in this family, just like it isn't Esteban's son's fault if his father wants to build him an empire made of drug selling and prostitution.

It's not her fault if her father was a loving, gentle man to her, and a monster to everyone else. All Alesha had were good, happy memories. Of course she would miss her father, of course she would look up at her uncle and cousin like they were the best people ever, because they offered her everything a young girl asked for: an unconditional love, a deep, sincere affection, and a caring family to lean on.

They loved her, and she loved them. And she loved Matthew. And, somewhere along the way, Deeks loved her, too. He cared about her, had thought of her many, many times throughout the years, just like he had with so many other people he had met and come across while undercover. He had learnt the hard way that it was _impossible_ to not care, and that, even with the greatest of efforts, every single one of them was a part of him.

There had been women, but guys, too, with whom he had sort of become friends. He had, once or twice, genuinely hoped those men would find their way back, get their act together and stop what they did before he had to arrest them. Sometimes, he could just see how close he had been to become one of them, and it just made the job a bit harder.

Bad people, he could deal with, and he lived to keep them from doing any more harm. Lost guys who never had someone to encourage them and help them stay on the right path ? It just made him feel like he wasn't doing his job the right way. Sometimes, he wished there were other things he could do.

Something more. Those days, he kind of wished he had followed his path as a lawyer, or any sort of social worker.

And, looking at Kensi, he knows he can't really bring himself to regret his choice not to.

Kensi feels him tensing, and she wraps an arm around his neck, her other hand still on his shoulder. Leaning into him, she looks into his eyes before brushing a finger along his jaw line. "Hey. Try smiling, it's a party, handsome."

With the hand resting on her lap, he squeezes her thigh lightly. "Yes. And, our guests of honor just crossed the doorway. Time to put on a great show, baby doll."


	18. Chapter 18

**This one goes to the awesome Jess who provided the very much needed support, and who loves that ending scene even before reading it. Once again, apologies for the delay and the unusual length of this chapter. Thanks to those of you who read and liked Reflections, too.**

* * *

Sebastian Marquez waves at the crowd, a warm smile tugging at his lips. People start walking to him, but he dismisses them with the same friendly gesture. "Keep going, my friends. More drinks and entertainment are coming," he says, receiving smiles and cheering. "I want to thank you all for coming today for our little princess."

His eyes roam around, looking for Alesha, until they settle on her, still gushing over all of her presents with her friends gathered around her. Sebastian's smile, fatherly and proud, only grows wider. The same expression mirrors on his son's face, Esteban, who is standing next to him in the doorway, with a very pregnant woman and a toddler Deeks can only presume to be his wife and son.

From the outside, it all looks like the perfect family picture, a happy reunion. And still, looking around him, Deeks only remembers everything he knows these men have done. What _he_ has done, with them, too. He recognizes the look of ignorance on every single pretty trophy wife or girlfriend, but still, he can't help resenting them, just a tiny bit; how can they really not know a thing ? How come that they never wonder, nor even ask, where all this money comes from ?

He wonders if they even care.

Turning back to look at Kensi, he sees the same fake plastic smile on her face, and it keeps him grounded. Now is not the time to think of this, and for a second, he's glad she's there to remind him – he's just glad she's there, period.

"_Princesa_ ? Come here." Alesha turns to look at her uncle, and her eyes go wide when she catches a glimpse of what he's holding in his hand. Running at him, she stops in front of him when he raises it higher, out of her reach. "Have you been a good girl, Ally ?" He teases, and Alesha nods, shaking her head so quickly it must hurt. "Okay, well, then. Here's for you, darling. Happy birthday."

He drops the keys in her open palm. "Why don't you go and show your friends your new car ? You should find it easily, it's the one with a big red bow parked in the alley." She beams, and with the speed of a tornado, she trails a path of kisses from her uncle's cheek to her cousin and his wife before she storms out of the room, quickly followed by her friends.

People get back to their drinks, the show now over. Esteban spots them sitting on the couch, and they both get up as the four Marquez walk to them. With a friendly pat on the shoulder, Esteban shakes Deeks' hand and smiles at Kensi. "Hey, Matthew. How are you doing, man ?" Turning to his father, he continues. "Dad, this is the man I wanted you to meet. Matthew Sturridge, my father, Sebastian Marquez."

Sebastian shakes his hand with both of his before pulling Deeks to him, offering him a warm embrace. "I feel so very privileged to meet you, Matthew. My brother highly recommended you. But," he adds as he leans back, looking at Kensi. "Who is this gorgeous friend of yours ?"

Kensi giggles – and God if she hates that. Deeks, too. It's so not her it could startle him, if he wasn't as trained as he is. She smiles politely as Sebastian takes her hand and drops a small kiss there, and blinks her lashes at his compliment about her dress. Soon, the Marquez men wander around, smiling and saying hello to everyone, thanking them for being there, along with Deeks whom they introduce to the very few of the guests who don't know him yet.

Most of them do know him, in fact. And, as he shakes hand after hand, Deeks soon realizes that no one quite forgot about him, the man he was, and the things he did. They all smile politely, pretending to be glad to have him back, and yet, Deeks knows none of them really means it. He knows that out of them all, he, as Matthew, was the most faithful, the most dedicated and unquestioned supporter. If there ever was one person in whom Alvaro had complete faith, it was him. And Deeks knows that they are all aware of this – aware that, whichever was their position in the _family_ until now, everyone is likely to be replaced, or simply reminded of the fact that they never did nearly as much as him.

Esteban had told him that his uncle talked about him like a member of the family, and upon seeing the expression on everyone's face tonight, Deeks knows that his position has never been as compromised. Jealousy and resentment always led to more digging, and though he knew that his cover had only been reinforced by the hard work of Eric and Nell, covering every loophole in his story with details, ever more specific and indisputable, he felt for the first time that things could go downhill.

People there – some of them, anyway, were still afraid of him, so he didn't expect any direct confrontation. But, if working undercover had taught him one thing, it was this: sneaky, devious people were way worse than the enraged ones who fought with all they had.

At least, he knew that he had won the Marquezs over. And, turning back to look around, and finding Kensi sitting with Belinda Marquez and a couple other women, he was reassured to know that he would have no problem bringing her back. Taking a second to think about it, Deeks wasn't really sure he liked the idea, but he was pretty certain that the possibly, yet not so soon-to-be Mrs. Sturridge had no objection against being there every step of the way.

He chuckles at the thought. He had always thought that his own parents' marriage was what nightmares were made of, and that there couldn't possibly be anything else worse. But he was dead wrong. Maybe the life Belinda Marquez led wasn't as bad, but it still was – in a different way, but he couldn't help but feel for her. Feel for all those women he still resented for being this blind. And, thinking that this could have been his life, had things gone wrong for him – if he had never pushed and fought as hard as he had… It made him sick. Sick, just at the thought that for days, weeks maybe (and God, he just shudders at the idea of this lasting any longer), this _is_ going to be his life, and Kensi's. For weeks, he's going to _be_ Matthew Sturridge, and do everything he will be asked, as disgusting or annihilating as it can be. Worst is, he knows Matthew wouldn't mind. He's been there, done that; yet, it never seems to become any easier.

_The day it gets easier, it means you damn well should quit and never turn back. Because, the longer you stare into darkness, the more you let it get to you. _The words still echo in his mind, the look on his step-father's face clear as day as Deeks remembers that conversation, oh so long ago. It seems life forever, and in a way, it is; the memory comes from another life, way before darkness indeed became such a great part of this one.

He had asked Thomas how he could deal with everything he got to witness, and the things he had to do, in order to protect and serve. He had asked what it felt like to take someone's life, even if it was to protect an innocent. He had asked, hoping and praying to get an answer that would ease the guilt he carried – the guilt he knew could never possibly leave him, and would follow him to the grave. The guilt, the shame he felt at shooting his own father.

Tom had said that this unease, the cruel pang at his chest that he felt every time he had to pull the trigger, were his sanity. That, as long as he felt them, he knew he was doing the right thing. He hadn't said more, nor been any more specific; and today, Deeks finally understood what he meant.

The day it gets easier to be Matthew Sturridge, then, God help him, he will leave before hurting those he loves – before hurting the few people that still give some sense to this world. His thoughts first go to the woman deep in conversation, just a few feet from him. He looks at Kensi, and he prays he won't ever hurt her – more than he already had in the past, that much he knows. He thinks of the team, of Hetty who gave him a chance, believing in him in a way no one had in a very long time. He thinks of Callen and Sam, with whom it has never been really easy, right at the start, both partners very protective of what they had built and cared about. He thinks of Eric and Nell, and how very little time he ever got to spend with them.

And, ultimately, he thinks of his mother. He wonders if leaving her behind was the best choice he ever made. If, he did her more good leaving than fighting to conciliate his life and her fears. Upon recalling the last words she ever spoke to him, he reckons it probably is better that way.

Soon, a warm hand on his arm calls him back, and all men leave the room, Sebastian telling the women they need to talk business, and that his lovely daughter-in-law has prepared plenty of things to do and talk about until dinner. Deeks looks furtively at Kensi, the unease and doubt mirroring in her dark eyes. As he follows everyone to the door leading to the office, he's at least relieved to know that he's the one walking in the lion's den.

Clearly, Kensi doesn't like the idea.

* * *

The next hour passes by quickly, Kensi having to listen to all those women and Alesha who returned to the living-room gushing over stupid, meaningless thing after another. She wants nothing more than to leave as she nods in agreement or smile at everything, boiling deep inside.

It's only when a simple question is asked that her mind starts wandering to places she has been refusing to visit in years; corners of her mind that she's scared of, and wants to have nothing to do with.

_So, Belen, is it a boy or a girl ?_

A girl, they find out. Six months pregnant Belinda Marquez and her husband are expecting a little girl, Luisa. And, as the young woman is telling them all about it, the baby, their plans for the holidays, and just how perfect and sweet life is, Kensi doesn't know if she wants to gag or cry.

Only now does she realize that Christmas is going to be there in less than five weeks.

She goes back to that life, a long time ago, spent dreaming of what her wedding would be like, writing invitations, trying dress after dress, planning an entire life on her own as Jack was always gone. But, mostly, she remembers that morning, all those years ago, when, instead of waking up to the scent of cinnamon and gingerbread or the feel of a kiss lingering against her temple, she had only woken up to an empty, cold left side of the bed.

She remembers the sound of her heart breaking, as she had realized that Jack wasn't going to be around to keep all these promises he made. She remembers throwing away all their stuff, everything they had bought together for their future house, their future family – these little baby socks her supposedly mother-in-law had knitted, just in case.

Kensi remembers what Christmas used to feel like – what it used to mean to her. Back to the time when she spent it with both her parents, and then with her dad only. How his death had changed it all, and killed the holiday spirit for her, taking the broken pieces of her heart along with all the sweet memories. How meeting Jack had made her believe in miracles and love again.

She had sworn to herself that Christmas would never mean a thing ever again after he left her. And it had worked, until Deeks came in the picture. Until two years ago, when he had taken her to that shelter, introducing her to a part of him she didn't know, and had loved to meet. For the first time in the longest time, Christmas had meant something, and had been synonymous of a happy, merry moment spent with someone that actually meant something to her, too. Christmas hadn't been just another day, even darker than the ones she spent at NCIS, dealing with death and grief and pain as a regular basis.

Christmas 2010 had meant everything to her. And, the following year, she had longed to feel that again, alone in her hotel room in Hawaii, curled up in bed, waiting for the day to end.

Christmas meant something to her again now, thanks to Deeks. And she knew it meant something to him, too. She could only guess that it had never been a happy time for him as a little kid, and that he loved being able now to make his own traditions, and help people get what he never had at this time of year himself.

Once, Christmas had been a time for a promise made by Jack as they were lying in bed, Kensi wrapped up in the warmth of his lean body. The promise that someday soon, maybe the next year, there would be another sock hanging on the mantelpiece.

That promise had followed her for years, refusing to leave, refusing to allow Kensi to think of something else and move on. Today, though… She knew that Christmas this year would probably be really intense if they still were undercover by then, particularly for Deeks for whom the holiday was another occasion to try and do something useful, something meaningful. Today, upon seeing the round belly of the woman sitting next to her, Alesha's hand resting atop, waiting for another kick, Kensi realizes that maybe, maybe it's time to let go.

Let go of the man, not the promise. Because, this year, she was going to spend Christmas with someone who mattered so, so much, it would be so easy to let go of the hurt, and hope that someday, this promise could be made by the very same person.

That, if nothing came in the way.

And if Deeks, or Hetty, had no objection about that.

* * *

She doesn't get to be alone with him until they're walking down the alley, heading back to his car, hours later. Even there, he's distant, and silent. He gives her his jacket, the chilly air of winter making goose bumps appear on her skin, and he opens the passenger door for her, but no word is spoken.

He drives fast. _Too fast_. Not so much above the speed limit, but plenty enough to make her worry like mad. His knuckles are white from gripping the steering wheel so hard, and the tension radiating from his body truly scares her.

"Deeks," she says softly, her low voice still loud in the silent space between them. "Pull over. _Please_."

He turns to look at her, eyebrows raised and a puzzled expression set upon his features. Still, she can only feel anger emanating from him. "What ?" he laughs mirthlessly. "You get to drive like mad but you can't take it when it's someone else ? You're scared or what ?"

"Yes."

It comes out much weaker than she intended – almost _broken_. It almost makes him come to an abrupt stop right in the middle of the road, and he jerks the car to a stop next to the nearest sidewalk. Turning to her, he can't help the sudden welling of his eyes, the shaking of his fingers stronger than ever. "Kens, look, I'm sorry -"

"Don't be," she interrupts him, reaching for his hands. "Don't be. Just let me drive, okay ? And then, we can talk. Or not," she adds as she sees him frown. "We can do whatever you want, okay ?"

She squeezes his hands before letting go, and she's out of the car before he knows it, opening his door and gently coaxing him out. She sits in the driver seat and turns the engine on again, watching him closely as she drives to the familiar place.

He spots a road sign and tries to stop her. "We can't go there, Kensi."

"It's one a.m, Deeks. There's no one there. And, honestly," she continues, her tone softer, "you know that's what you need right now. Just let me, okay ? Let me do something for you."

He nods, and barely five minutes later, they're parking in the empty lot, and the scent he inhales as they leave the car finally makes him feel alive again. He walks to the beach and takes off his shoes and socks, leaving them there by the path as he revels in the way his feet sink in the sand. He keeps walking until his feet hit the water, the cold ocean making a shiver run down his spine, but one he had missed, a thrill he simply couldn't live without.

That's when he turns around and sees that Kensi is looking at him, still standing next to the car. In the silence of the night, he doesn't even need to raise his voice as he speaks. "I don't bite, baby. Not unless you ask me to. Just come here, gorgeous."

She hesitates, so he continues. "Come here. I _want_ you here."

He sinks down and sits on the sand, Kensi taking off her shoes before walking over to him.

* * *

"I – I remember the first time I ever saw her, you know ?" he finally says, his low voice erupting between them, crashed by the sound of the waves, so that Kensi has to lean in closer to hear him. "Alvaro had invited me over, so we could talk about my new position. He told me he was about to trust me with something really important, and, there she was…"

Deeks still faces away from her, staring at the ocean, as dark as the pit from pole to pole. It's deep and bigger than him, and for the first time in his life, he's afraid of the immensity of it. He's afraid of being swallowed whole by it, and that, however hard he tries and fights, he just won't be able to prevent that from happening. _He's drowning_.

And, what scares him the most is that Kensi will put up a fight to save him – even if it means she's gonna drown in with him, too. That's how loyal and crazy she is. And that, he just _can't_ let happen; at least, he knows deep down that he shouldn't.

But he _needs_ her. He needs her to know, and understand. He needs her to be there and be the sanity he can hold onto. He knows it's selfish, and that for people, it might border on unprofessional because her presence there with him wasn't _only_ for the sake of the assignment. He knows he must be strong and tell her to go, because she's not there to take care of him.

His fears and doubts are _his_ only. But then again, a small smile tugs at his lips when he thinks of what Kensi would say if he told her just that. Words of his she reciprocated and threw back his way, just a few nights ago. No matter what, she's there. She is, and he's too tired to pretend he can find it in him to tell her to leave him alone, and deal with everything on his own.

Kensi squeezes his hand, her fingers, their tight hold and welcoming warmth a reminder that she won't let go – _ever_. "Ally was just coming back from school," he starts, finally turning his head to look at her, the encouraging smile on her lips urging him to go on and spit it out. It's time, anyway. "She was wearing her school uniform. Mmh, a little plaid skirt – navy blue and white. White socks, navy jacket." Pausing, he hesitates, and another quiet moment passes before he speaks again. "Two plaits, but her hair was so messy, there were many curls all around her face. She had that little golden cross around her neck, bouncing with every step because she was almost running to us, squealing. I think she got a good mark or something. And then she stopped dead in track in front of me."

Deeks allows himself to revel in the memory, his mind going back to that sunny day of spring, the sweet scent of the rose Alesha had tucked in one of her elastic bands. He remembers her beaming smile, her features stretched in one expression of pure happiness he had gotten to see, day after day.

He tries hard to shrug off the memory of tears running down her face as he was kneeling in front of her, holding her small, trembling hands in his, telling her he was leaving.

Another couple minutes go, and Kensi starts tracing smooth patters on the inside of his wrist with her thumb. Slowly, steadily, her touch brings him back to focus. "She was blunt," he goes on, laughing quietly. The sound tugs at Kensi's heart, and she tucks her chin on his shoulder as he goes back to staring to the ocean. "She just narrowed her eyes and stared at me, and she asked 'Who are you ?'. And I couldn't help but laugh, and it didn't please her, at all. She was twelve, you know, but you could see she wasn't used to people not taking her seriously because, whatever she wanted, Daddy gave it to her. She wasn't a spoilt brat," he adds quickly. "Not at all. She had everything she wanted, but she was a nice kid. Her mom died giving birth to her. Huge internal bleeding, flooding. So, Alvaro only had her left. She was the princess of the castle, and the nickname stayed."

He feels Kensi's breath on his cheek and neck, and, closing his eyes shut, Deeks takes a minute to enjoy it, let her soothing, calming breathing slow his furious heartbeat. Pursuing his lips, he bites gently on the bottom one before speaking again. "Anyway, I told her my name was Matthew and that I was a good friend of her father. That was enough for her. She just put her bag down and sat beside her dad, and Alvaro told her that if she was okay with this, I would take care of her. That I would be there when he had to leave and travel for work. Ally…She just shrugged and asked me if I knew how to braid hair."

Kensi laughs, the tiniest, cutest sound he's heard in a long time. It reverberates against his body and surrounds him with warmth. "That was it. At first, I just came from time to time, we watched TV, or I would take her to the mall. And then, three weeks after that day, Alvaro had to leave for Sacramento for a few days – meet with his business partners there. I used to come early in the morning to have breakfast with her and take her to school, and then I picked her up at the end of the day. Helped her with her homework, and God, you just don't know how many chick flicks I've had to watch. But then…"

His eyes darken at the thought, his voice lightly shaking at the memory. His mind meanders through the haze flashing before his eyes, pictures of Alesha playing in a corner of the bar while he was meeting with business associates, young thugs or…

"There was this guy who hadn't paid what he owed Alvaro. And Alvaro, he had told me to do whatever it takes to get the money back. The guy looked at Ally, and he said something like 'You have a kid, man, you know what's it's like.' And…" He stops for a second, thinking. "I told him that if he didn't want something to happen to his children, he'd better pay. Because, I had lots of things in mind they could do for us if he didn't…"

He can't suppress the shiver running down his spine, and Kensi leans back, only this time to run a hand over his arm, squeezing his shoulder, her fingers drifting to his neck. Stroking her thumb there, her bent knees touching his leg, Kensi looks at him with soft, forgiving eyes. She knows he can't – and _won't_ accept the concern, seeing it as pity. He doesn't want her to forgive him, because, clearly, that's something he won't ever do himself; he won't ever see that whatever he did, he did it because he had to.

It's killing her that he can't see it. That she's there no matter what. She thinks he knows it, deep down; he just can't believe it. "She still loves you, Deeks. She won't look at you any different because of that. You've never done any harm to her."

"Neither did her dad," he whispers grimly. His head bowed, he goes on, still shaking. "Alvaro was a good father to her. Ally doesn't even know why he's in jail. They told her it wasn't his fault, that some of his associates did some bag things, stole some money, and she believed them. She doesn't think people who love her can lie to her, or… Be some monsters, you know ?" He shakes his head. "She's sixteen, but she's still a little girl. She just wants to be loved, she never asked for anything else. They love her, that's the only thing she sees. _I loved her_, and…That's the only thing she sees about me. That I'm the guy who played with her and watched movies and wished her goodnight. She thinks we all love her, and still…"

Kensi frowns. Alesha had seemed happy tonight. She seemed quite at ease among all those people, and her family – happy and beaming and squealing like a little girl at the presents they all came with, hugging and kissing everyone. Even she whom she had never met got a hug for that bracelet Deeks bought for her; Kensi had no part in that, and had only smiled and said she was sure Alesha would like it when Deeks showed it to her. And when they left, the girl had hugged Deeks tight, whispering something in his ear that Kensi couldn't hear, but that had made him genuinely smile.

And then, the drive home had been all about Deeks being so angry and shaken he had scared her. How things could have changed so quickly, Kensi had no idea. Rubbing his back with her hand, she settles back against him, legs touching, feet licked by the waves crashing on the sand. "What happened, Deeks ?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper, matching his own quiet, tormented tone.

He lifts his face up, and looks at the dark sky. He just loves it here, the only place in the city when you can really see the stars shining, all glowing and sparkling in the deep of night. Any other night, it would help. Not tonight. Shrugging his shoulders, he turns to her and, reaching for her hand on her lap, he laces his fingers with hers. "Sebastian told us they were going to Puerto Rico for Christmas –"

"Yeah, Belinda told us, too," she interrupts him. "Alesha was all excited about it."

The grim smile returns to his lips. "Yeah, that she is. But…" He takes another minute to compose himself, praying for the shakiness in his voice to just leave him alone so he can continue. "You know, they're pretty well known there, they do lots of stuff for their hometown – schools, hospitals, they give lots of money. And they have important friends there. Business friends. And, this Christmas, they're gonna introduce Alesha to some of them. To them, she's the heiress, you know ? Even though Sebastian took over in place of his brother here, in Los Angeles, it's all for her. Just like Esteban who's trying to build an empire for his children. But, they're not stupid. They know that Ally is never gonna do this – she's too innocent, too pure for this life. So, they need to find someone who will. A man. A husband."

His free hand comes to her wrist, and he focuses his gaze on his fingers playing with the silver bracelets there. Tilting her head, Kensi looks down until their eyes lock again. Deeks sighs, and she rests her other hand on top of theirs. "The guy is twenty-one. Majoring in Physics and Chemistry. Pretty useful for drug selling, when you come to think of it," he shrugs. "They're gonna introduce Ally to him and his family, just like she's been introduced to thousands people before. You saw her tonight, she considers them all family. They're family friends, and they treat her like a princess. So, they're gonna wait for magic to do wonders, and then, within two years, once she's done with high school… They're gonna send her there to become some nice, pretty, submissive wife who stays home to take care of kids and make dinner for her husband. Just like Belinda does. They – they're basically giving her away to some guy she doesn't even know, just because that's how business works. And, Alvaro was the one having the idea. I saw him with her, he literally _worships_ his daughter, and still… It's just like they're selling her to that guy. Like she's just some part of the bargain. And, I mean, okay, maybe Ally goes there and she falls in love. Maybe that guy is nice and kind, and maybe he'll love her, too. Maybe she's gonna be excited and ecstatic when he proposes. _Maybe_. And, God, I do hope things turn out like this. But – she's still just a little girl, Kens. You saw her, with her pink tiara and her loud giggle. She can't – she _shouldn't_ have to go through this."

He clears his throat, forcing himself to look her in the eye. Kensi knows it's hard for him – possibly the hardest thing, right now, or so it seems. But, she also knows that if she lets him close down on her, he might never open up again. He would just keep it to himself, brood over the idea and the pain, let it swallow him whole. And that, she simply cannot let happen – honest to God, she'd rather _die_ than let him do that on by himself.

"She should choose the life she wants to lead by herself. She shouldn't have to be a puppet they all play with. I get it, Deeks. Really. I get you," she says, her tone soft, and her eyes even softer as she plunges them into his, the sorrow and struggle so clear and obvious in his pale blue orbs, she finds she can't quite handle it.

"He's twenty-one, Kens," he continues. "He's a grown man. And, just look at her. She's so, so gorgeous. Maybe he's a nice guy, but… One look at her and he will never be able to just wait until she falls in love and grows to accept the idea that she has to marry him. One look at her, and – I _can't_ let that happen, Kens," he insists, squeezing her hand so tight it hurts. She doesn't let it show, though. "I can't. And I know I shouldn't care – not this much, at least. I know. But, she's just a little girl. It was my _job_ to take care of her, and it's their _duty_ to love her and protect her. I can't let them do that to her. I know it shouldn't be our – _my_ priority, but… Just tell me how this is any different from what they do to these women, Kens. Tell me. They're gonna send her to Puerto Rico to marry some guy who's just gonna go home to her to lie her down in bed and do whatever he wants. And, she's supposed to just accept it. Worse, be happy about it, just like Belinda is. But Ally, she's so much smarter than that. She could do everything she wants – be anyone she wanna be. And she's expected to just become some housewife whose husband cheats on her all the time because that's the way it is, and –"

And what, Kensi never finds out. She leans into him, her free hand lifting to lie on his chest, tugging at the collar of his shirt almost desperately to pull him to her. Softly, slowly, she grows closer, her face barely an inch from his.

Who makes the first move in the end, Kensi doesn't know. She thinks it's her, though. She sees the change in his eyes just the instant before, surprise flicking there, and then a look she hasn't seen directed at her in a long time. One of real, genuine adoration. There might be desire in there, somewhere, in the way his eyes flutter, barely able that he is to keep them open, or in the way they darken, now this deep, stormy shade, so striking compared to the paleness there before. She definitely can't deny it has to match in hers, as her skin takes that rosy shade induced by the heat, the spark of electricity running down her spine as they grow closer, ever closer.

When her lips touch his, and he frees his hand from hers to cradle the back of her neck, bringing her to him with a rush, but a tenderness she never knew could make her tremble, she knows there's definitely something else. It's not adoration, it's not desire, nor is it pure want and need.

It's _Deeks_. He's her partner, her best friend, the very one she trusts with everything that she is – _and God help her, but she just knows she loves him_. Feels it with a strength that shakes her to the core, feels it with the way his lips mesh with hers, demanding and restless and still so, _so_ gentle she can't bring herself to be ashamed of the moan it induces in her. The whimper sounds so foreign to her own ears – maybe because she knows no man has ever reduced her to this boneless, trembling mess who just wants him right now, right there, right this instant. And that, just with one touch of his lips.

And, if the way the fingers of one hand thread through her curls, as the others dance along her spine, down her ribcage and back up again, stroking her sides, venturing and touching every part of her they can reach, is any indication, then Deeks _must_ want her, too. Just as much as she does.

Unfamiliar feelings, intimacy, the words echo through her mind, but she puts them aside so easily, so quickly it makes her head spin. She can't deny herself this – his lips on hers, his hands touching her _everywhere_, his tongue coaxing hers into life… And, several kisses later, only broken by desperate gasps for air, Kensi feels her body falling slowly backwards, her fall gently slowed down by Deeks' arm encircling her, his hand on the small of her back. She feels her body hit the sand softly, quickly followed by Deeks hovering over her, bracing his weight with one arm around her shoulder, his other hand seeking hers as their linked fingers come to rest above her head.


	19. Chapter 19

**First of all, thanks to all of you for the support to this story even after the long delay between updates, and the three stories I came up with during the last couple weeks as I was struggling with this chapter. To those who may be a bit surprised and puzzled by this chapter, I can only say that there is a method to my twisted mind, and that I am not forgetting what happened in the precious installment. We will focus back on this later. Also, if you don't necessarily understand everything that is going on, this is normal! Some things will be better explained later. Hope you enjoy!  
As always, particular thanks to the awesome Twitter girls.  
**

* * *

"What can you tell me about these people ?" Javier asks, spreading five pictures on the table. They all show men sitting across a desk; probably taken without them knowing it, maybe with the webcam of an open laptop.

Deeks takes a minute to look at them. His ability to decipher people, noticing the smallest twitch of the mouth, a sudden dilation of the pupil or the change in the tone of the voice, has always helped him out when in some dire straits. An ability that he knows to be very useful, whichever the side of justice you stand on.

He rubs a hand over his smooth jaw, thinking. "This one," he finally says, pointing at the picture of a man nearing his fifties, "can't be trusted. Just look at him. Clean haircut, clean moustache. You can bet he's OCD and washes his hands a hundred times a day, folds his clothes so neatly it borders madness. Probably has a wife, maybe a couple kids." Deeks takes the picture in his hands and looks at it closely. "See, yeah, there's a mark on his finger. Left hand. He's the kind of guy who thinks that because he takes off his wedding band before cheating on his suburban housewife, God doesn't see him. But, apart from that, he must be a good man. All righteous and following the rules, probably with a clean record – like, _pristine clean_ record, not even a speed ticket. He's just looking for a thrill because he's like 50 and realizes that half his life – the fun part, is already behind him. But, if something goes wrong, he'll panic, and could do something stupid. Can't be trusted."

Deeks lifts up his face, only to see a huge smirk grow on Javier's lips. Laughing, the man clasps his hands, impressed. "Wow, you still got it, Matt. Really impressive. Christopher Felton, 48," he continues. "Married for 25 years. Three kids. Active member in the local church, he was his son's baseball team coach. He came to us to have fun, and got scared when we _nicely_ told him we did _not_ wait for anyone to pay. Can you seriously believe that guy played the cop card, saying he was gonna call'em ?" Javier laughs, one hand holding his side. "One little swim in the river solved the problem."

Deeks laughs along, but quickly puts all the information in a corner of his mind. Trying hard, he can't remember a body being found in the L.A. river these last few months that could fit Christopher Felton's profile. But, last summer had been pretty shaken by the disappearance and tragic death of two little boys whose bodies had been found in the river, drowned after a serious beating and, dares he think about it, several other signs of assault. The young boys, age eight and eleven, had gone missing on their way home after a day spent at the beach on their own (and this, Deeks thinks sadly, is something quite too common, even in good families who take good care of their children), and after a search of three weeks, he had been standing among the officers and volunteers finding them.

That's what his summer had been like, carrying the lifeless, broken body of an eight year-old to the bank.

Oh Lord, how he had missed Kensi that day, that night when he went home.

He shakes his head, and focuses his attention back on the pictures. Once more, and then with the three remaining pictures, Deeks captures the essential of these men, the coward, the traitor, the one who's definitely not fit for this life, and the ambitious. _All dead_.

This is how they deal with betrayal and weakness – how _he_ deals with it, when he's with them. You screw them once, you don't live to tell the tale, whether you're a client, or a friend, a member of the family. Mistakes cost you your life without the slightest hesitation in this world.

He's done terrible things in his life – both as Matthew Sturridge and his other aliases, and on his own personal, cluttered way. He shot his father, and God be his witness, though he will never regret protecting his mother's and his own life, he still _hates_ the rage that had flooded his veins, spilling through his entire body, shaking him and reducing him to no less of a man that his father once was. Oh, how he knows what people would say, that he was just a little boy, that he had been incredibly brave and that he had done what he had to in order to survive. That, it was either them both, or him, and that he had _no__t_ killed the man.

It didn't make him feel any better – it never did, and probably never will. This strength he had gained, gathering enough courage to take the gun and aim at his father, he's _never_ considered it strength and courage. He loathes it, even more than the man; Deeks hated that the fear and the disgust had made him pull the trigger, and become just a bit like _him_.

Some days, some real few, dark nights, he hated his mother for making him go to such lengths. Most days, he loved her too much to even care. Maybe she was weak, and fragile and vulnerable, and maybe most people would condemn and blame a woman who had never protected her own child, given him the life and happy childhood, the _innocence_ he deserved to keep, by staying with the man who had made their life a living hell. _Deeks knew better_. Everything his mom ever did was taking the beating, often stepping between his father and him, getting slapped or knocked out in the process. The only times his father had laid a hand (or a belt) on him – and that still had happened an awful amount of times, it had been because his mother was either at work, killing herself softly to provide for their family, or _unconscious_.

He remembers that one first time, like it was just yesterday. Little Marty was five, clinging onto his mother's body, her bottom lip split and bloody, a huge reddish bump on her forehead as she lied on the living-room floor. His father had punched her, so hard that she had stumbled and knocked herself against the kitchen counter, falling then to the ground.

The five longest minutes of his young life, had felt like hours, hours spent crying, his hot tears rolling down his cheeks and falling on her beautiful, bruised face. And his father – God, how he loathes use the _word_ for that sick bastard, had just gone back to sitting on the couch, beer and remote in hand, ready for the upcoming game.

And, _annoyed_ by the sound of the boy's cries, he had hit him, right in the face. The following morning, the mark, red fingers smashed across his jaw, was still there. The following morning, his mother had called his school, telling them little Marty was sick (_poor baby has a fever, I'd rather have him stay home until the end of the week_). And when she had laid a comforting hand on his forehead, kissed him and told him that she was sorry, that she loved him so, so much, the only thing he could think was, _God, please, stop crying, Mommy_. Maybe he had prayed hard, too, that she would stay home and not go to work, leaving him alone with his dad.

Obviously, God had a peculiar sense of humor.

Today, still, he feels like this little five year-old boy again, who had turned after into the skinny, scared as hell eleven year-old who shot his father. Looking back on that day, remembering every emotion that had overwhelmed him, the sheer _relief_, and maybe _joy_, when his dad had slumped to the floor, yelling and throwing insults at both him and his wife as he applied a hand on the bullet wound on his arm before fainting, Deeks feels _numb_.

He has lied, stolen, drunk, used drugs. He has hurt people. He has slept with women he felt nothing for but a pure physical attraction, the need for release after the tension of the day too urgent to resist. He has slept with women he shouldn't have, women he cared about but who were forbidden fruits, because lines had gotten blurred, boundaries had been meant to be crossed.

He's done many, many mistakes – some he regrets, some he feels remorse about, some he knows he won't ever be able to erase. But, of all those past dents in the path he had chosen to follow, that of a man he considered his real father, no blood relation needed to establish the bond, a man who had led his life doing good, and that Deeks hoped he could someday honor being half the man he was – the one thing he was really ashamed of was sinking _that_ low.

Some days, he wonders who is the worst – all those aliases, Dale John Sully, Max Gentry, or Matthew Sturridge; or, maybe he isn't so different from any of them, and _he_ is the problem. Maybe a guy who has shot his father, and been a failure of a good son, could never level up with the man who had raised him and given him all he had.

Maybe that's the reason why he can laugh upon finding out about the unfortunate fate of Christopher Felton. Maybe it explains why, after months saying no to Bates, here he is today, being this guy he hates, who may not be this different, not so _alien_ to him.

Maybe it's the reason why when Javier tells him what his new job is gonna be, he simply listens and nods, saying he understands. _Of course he does_. After all, his father used to think his mother and he were obstacles that needed to be thrown off his way, and this is exactly what Matthew is expected to take care of: get rid of the threats to this little family of theirs.

_Easy_. He just has to close his eyes and feel his father's persona sink into him, contaminating his every skin and bone. The hardest is shrugging him off, in the aftermath. _If he can_.

God, he wishes he could just go back to bed, back to _Kensi_. Back _home_.

* * *

She wakes up first. Again. This time, though, she knows she can't afford the luxury of staying wrapped in those delicious, strong arms around her.

It's already close to 9 AM, and she has delayed this moment for almost half an hour, now. She has already reached for her phone on the nightstand, sending a quick message to Nell, asking if they can meet by 9.15 so they can be at OSP on time. Right now, she barely has enough time to freshen up and put on the clothes she wore to the party last night before running to the meeting point, the park just by Nell's apartment where she picked her up the other morning.

It's hard. It really is, when one of Deeks' arms is lazily resting across her stomach, his face nuzzled in her neck. At some point during the night, he had woken her up with his turning and tossing, and without thinking, she had reached out for him, wrapping her arms tightly around his body, holding him close to her. The soothing caresses down his back and arms had eased him back into a peaceful, dreamless sleep, and Kensi had surprised herself realizing that she had no problem with this clingy Deeks. Of all the nights they had spent together in bed, she had been the one gravitating around him, something she would have denied with all she's worth, had she been asked about it in broad light. And yet, here she is, not only allowing this proximity, but enjoying every single _second_ of it.

She realizes just how ridiculous it is, that she who has never been keen on displays of affection for everyone to see, sort of craves for them when the lights go out. Subconsciously, Kensi associates all of those with weaknesses; showing the world just how much you care about someone is like handing them the key to your heart and soul, giving them plain access and an infinity of ways to hurt you. But, guarded by the walls of this room, she feels like it's safe; safe to want those arms around her, safe to admit to herself just how good, how _right_ it feels.

This has to end, though.

Slowly, oh so reluctantly, she extricates herself from his gentle hold, and within minutes, the coffee is brewing as she tries to freshen up, putting back on the dress from the night before, her hair loosely held in a ponytail. Anyone who could pass by as she leaves the apartment will read on her tired features what they _should_, that once again, she's undertaking that paranoid, yet so random walk of shame, thinking that everyone is looking at her, knowing perfectly what she did the night before thanks to her disheveled appearance and evening attire.

Part of the plan, exactly. The bite mark on her neck from the very first night still shows, uncovered by make-up for now. So far, things have gone quite smoothly.

She hates herself for being so bothered by the fact that tonight, maybe (probably), Deeks is going to pin another girl to the wall of his headquarter of a nightclub. That, it's another woman who is going to shiver from the touch of his demanding lips and venturing hands.

She hates it, because he hates it. Just like he hates it when she has to put on a low-cut dress and seduce a scumbag – and both of them know just how disgusted they truly are by the idea of what lengths they could have to go to (and both of them think that it's worse when it's the other having to do it, obviously).

Kensi still can't quite point out what's the worst, though: the women, the alcohol, the drugs, the violence, or the simple fact that he has to be a man who _enjoys_ them all. As she retrieves the small plastic bag filled with the unknown white powder from a drawer of his desk, the one Lynch offered for a night of fun, she thinks that maybe, this has to be close to the worst.

The idea only of having something running through her system, depriving her of her abilities – her sniper's shoot, her kickass moves, her willpower, even – was just utterly inacceptable, and, truth be told, _terrifying_. Alcohol, Kensi could easily handle; she knew how to hold her liquor, and she knew what her limits were. The story her father had told her about his brother dying because of a drunk driver had taught her just this. She knew when to stop, or hand over her keys to someone else (or, more likely, sleep in the backseat of her car because except from the team, she trusted no one).

But, drugs… Meds and pills just freaked her out, literally.

When in pain, you couldn't fight against the substance. Once the painkillers start working their magic, you can't do anything about it. The simple thought makes her shiver, thinking about all those side effects that could make her _less_ – the drowsiness, dizziness or lightheadedness, among so many others.

Kensi only took painkillers when someone made her, usually Hetty with a direct order, or Callen and Sam with their barely veiled concern (which she had always found quite hypocritical, particularly coming from the team leader). And, lately, for the past couple years, Deeks had started taking on the role with a technique of his own: threats. It was oh so very _simple_, according to him; Kensi had a _choice_: either going to the ER or letting the paramedics take a look at her injuries, or let _him_ take care of those – making sure that she would indeed take the pills, and most of the time, that also meant checking that she went home safely. In his book, this implied him stealing her keys, driving her home himself, and therefore ending up sleeping on her couch because he couldn't possibly leave her alone.

Naturally.

She's never used any other harder drug. Once or twice, she has had to be the stupid, inebriated girl thrown like the lamb in the lion's den; Callen and Sam were always there to catch the bad guy after the first sip of her drugged drink. It had never been quite enough to really affect her, or throw her off balance, because she had always been taken care of real quick. Once, there had been a close call, though in very different circumstances.

There had been no Marty Deeks to barge into the room and save her. No Callen and Sam or even Renko, either, for that matter. Some days, she found it really hard to believe that she had actually made it out alive, and unharmed.

Drugs freaked her out. And, thinking that her partner had to evolve in that universe, that he had surely used some in one or several of these past lives of his… It didn't make it any better. She had heard many stories about many agents losing themselves for the sake of an assignment – particularly among the best of them. There always seemed to be something that would be their downfall, someone they shouldn't have fallen for, another glass they shouldn't have refilled…

She knew some; others were the main characters of stories the guys had shared with her, stories of agents bigger than life that had ended up in rehab, or going to the AA meetings for the rest of their lives because, at some point, they had been overwhelmed, and drowned in the ocean of vices that surrounded them.

Some days, she wondered what it felt like, losing yourself; on others, she understood the feeling too well, as she recalled what her life had felt like after both the murder of her father (she had always known this was no simple accident), and the loss of Jack.

Sometimes, she wondered what it would feel like, the sudden chill running through her veins as the drugs would invade her system and possess her mind. She wondered where her thoughts would wander, if the vivid images blurring her vision would be of those loved ones she missed and had lost, happy memories dancing in front of her eyes, or horrid pictures – blood and ache and death coming in waves.

Kensi wondered if it would bring her peace, or pave her way faster to Hell.

Tucking the plastic bag in her purse and walking to the front door after one last look to the sleepy form of her partner, she wonders what thoughts filled his mind when he had to do what needed to be done.

Suddenly, it hits her that maybe now, happy memories, the calm and quiet and peace drugs could bring her, would probably be made of him.

Nightmares, _too_.

* * *

Nell almost climbs the stairs running, leaving Kensi alone in the empty bullpen. From her office, Hetty watches both women come in, and with one pointed look, she beckons the junior agent to join her.

Oh, how Hetty already hates what she's about to say – as if their lives weren't complicated enough, sorrow and pain and hurt basically mandatory in their line of work.

A quick look around tells Kensi that there's no one to be found, and considering the time (9.25, meaning that the guys _have_ to be there, somewhere), Kensi knows that their sudden and unusual absence can't be a coincidence. She takes the few steps leading to Hetty's desk, already feeling that wherever this conversation goes, she's likely to not like it.

"Kensi," Hetty says with a short nod, and yet the tiniest, almost sad smile on her lips. "Please, have a sit."

_Kensi_. Personal, then. "Hetty." Kensi frowns, a bit worried. "Am I – am I in any kind of trouble ?"

Hetty smiles, this knowing smile that grows with years and experience. "I've always found quite entertaining that all of you seem to think that I only want to have a word with you when you have done something foolish or reckless. Did you ?" She laces her fingers, and props her chin on her linked hands. "You missed a button, Ms. Blye."

Kensi looks down at her chest, spotting the button that had given her away. She had changed in the backseat of Nell's _very_ small car, grateful for the almost empty streets of Los Angeles that had given her some kind of privacy. The hickey on her neck was hidden by her collar, and though she looked more disheveled than usual, she thought that if the analyst could hold her tongue, then things could go smoothly.

She would have never asked for Nell to downright lie to Hetty – both because she knew the young woman never would, but also because she didn't want to get her into trouble. She had been the one choosing to cross Hetty's authority (though Kensi felt like she had reasonable reasons to), and she was ready to shoulder the responsibility if the operation manager ever decided to sanction her for it.

Hetty had said that it wasn't necessary of Kensi to spend the week-end with Deeks. She had never _literally_ forbidden her to. It had been quite clear in her tone, that Hetty thought this might not be the most clever idea, but Kensi had pondered and weighed the pros and cons, finally settling on the decision that, _yes_, her partner needed her, and that it would also be good for Matthew Sturridge to introduce the current flavor of the week to his friends.

Obviously, Hetty seemed eager to hear those arguments, because she didn't look convinced at all.


	20. Chapter 20

**Once again, sorry for the delay. The next couple chapters, and this one, are set each one from either Kensi or Deeks' perspective. More specifically, we either follow Kensi or Deeks. There won't be interaction between the two of them. I can only say once again that there is some method in this twisted mind of mine, and that events of chapter 18 are not forgotten, and will be told about and developed in ulterior chapters. I need to thank you for both the support for this story and the recent one-shots. That said, hope you enjoy. :)**

* * *

Hetty watches her, and Kensi dissolves under her persistent gaze. She feels like she's a child all over again, about to be told off or reprimanded by a teacher or, worse, her dad. Hetty, very much like her own father, has a hold on her she can't quite explain. Callen's opinion means a lot to her, too, not only because he's her team leader but much more because he is her friend, her family; Sam is the calm and collected older brother, he tempers down their recklessness. But, Hetty is something different. She's wise, she has experience, she has been there, done that – Hetty is the one they turn to when they're at a loss to what to do.

Hetty is harder to convince when Kensi says she's fine and that her head is in the game. Callen always pushes and tests her, but in the end, he trusts Hetty's judgment. Hetty is the one who takes the decisions, whether they do realize it or not. Callen might be the leader outside, out in the field, and Director Vance may be the head of the agency, but Hetty ? Hetty is the one in which they placed their trust and faith. Hetty is the one they listen to.

The one Kensi should have listened to, but could never.

Because, as much as she had dreaded the moment when she would have to confront Hetty about her choices, she also knows _now_, that Deeks _is_ the one in which she places everything that she is.

Deeks is the hardest to convince when she says that she's fine. He is the only one who can really see past the façade, the only one she lets in. How could Hetty really expect her to leave the one person she trusts, by himself ? She should have known better than to ask Kensi to stay away, when everything in her wanted nothing but to be there, with him. For him. He's _her_ partner, it's her job to have his back, whether he's answering to Hetty's orders and the authority of the naval agency, or to Lieutenant Bates. Kensi only answers to _him_.

Deeks needed her. And this, not _just_ because there was something underlying between them – _there was, now, oh God_. Partners ought to stick together, and look out for each other. And yes, maybe Deeks had gone through life without her before, but, could anyone really look her in the eye and say this was better ? She had almost lost him, even before he really became _hers_; he had almost died in an explosion, and then at the hands of Lazik. Because he was alone, because the police force didn't quite care about him the way he deserved, because they were stupid and inexperienced and way less invested than federal agencies when it came down to undercover – she didn't know what their problem was, but there had to be one, for Deeks to go under alone, risking his life without anyone having his back.

_She_ was there just for that, now.

"I won't apologize for having my partner's back, Hetty," she finally says, crossing her arms over her chest. She knows that Hetty doesn't need to be Nate to feel the defensiveness in her tone and her stoic, almost _fierce_ attitude. Still, she can't quite pretend she's able _not_ to be protective over her partner – maybe a scary hell lot, even. "Isn't it what it's all about, anyway ?" she presses, definitely not able to hold back her thoughts and quite harsh tone. "You thrust us together, you demanded that we trust each other, and now we do, now that we _can't_ possibly imagine not working together, you expect me to just back off, and leave him alone in this mess ? I can't do that, Hetty. I can't. Deeks is my partner, he is…" Her breath threatens to catch, so she stops; she bites on her lip to reign the trembling, and sees Hetty still intently staring at her.

For an agent, Kensi thinks she's doing a very poor job at hiding her emotions; but she doesn't quite care. Those are reasonable; those are what she is supposed to feel when her partner, her friend, the one person who means the world to her is away, and when she is expected to be fine about it. Well, guess what ? She's not. And, for once, Kensi is okay with the idea of admitting that _no_, she can _never_ be fine with letting Deeks go.

"I was right to do what I did", she continues, keeping under control the shaking in her voice. "You never gave me the direct order not to, and I had reasons. I thought about it. It made – _makes_ sense. Deeks told us about the loyalty there, how they all feel like they are some big family. Those people… They think that they look like outstanding citizens, and, in a way, they do. You'd never suspect them of anything, when you see them. They look just like anyone else in Bel Air or Beverly Hills. They're rich, they have huge houses, a family, pretty wives and cute kids. I mean, Hetty," Kensi insists, a bit out of breath, and very aware of the fact that she hasn't let a moment for Hetty to utter only one word. "From the outside, they're poster for America. And, back in Puerto Rico, they are some gods. They do raise funds for charities, and if LAPD hasn't been able to arrest them so far, if they really are the ones behind a human trafficking ring that has been going on for months…"

She pauses, and lifts a hand to her mouth, biting on her thumb nail. The gesture doesn't go unnoticed by Hetty, and it reminds her of the younger woman's partner. She remembers that one day when she had met with Marty Deeks, all bruised and injured, and shaken by the news of Jess Traynor's death. The lost look settled on his tired features, the trembling in his voice as he had talked to her, almost _begged_ her to help him do the right thing. He had been desperate, and beaten, but even there, Deeks had been fierce and determined. Lethal, ready to do anything, everything that the horror of the situation, and the disgust it inspired him required him to do so it would stop.

Right now, she's seeing it all over again with Kensi. She's seeing _him_ in _her_, just like she has seen _her_ in _him_ on plenty occasions. It strikes Hetty then, that the pair of partners are _way_ more alike than even _she_ had foreseen. They're good together, oh, that no one can deny. They complement each other, they bring balance to the other. Kensi and Deeks are maybe the one thing she's the most proud of – just how far they've come ever since the first day they were partnered up together.

It's scary, too, though. Because, so far she thought Kensi Blye was hard to deal with, her recklessness, her guts she trusted and followed blindly. And, in Marty Deeks she found that there did exist someone else, just like her.

What a pair they were, huh.

Probably the best of them, yes, but also the most _explosive_ one, _ever_. And, if one fell, or broke down, the other would move heaven and earth, knock on _any_ and _every_ door, do just about anything to help the other. This was what real loyalty meant, this _exactly_ was Hetty had wanted them to find in each other; never in a billion years had she imagined that they would end up having to figure it out by going to such lengths.

Hetty pondered a moment on warning Kensi of the dangerousness of all of this. She knew that Kensi's typical response would be to laugh it off, and pretend she doesn't understand or see why Hetty would say that. She knows, deep down, that nothing she could say could make her, or anyone in the team, reflect on her words – they did, after all, seem to forget that she's been there, back in her agent days. Hetty knows, and regrets sometimes, the fact that youth has to be spent thoroughly, and that every new generation thinks they're better, faster and stronger than the previous one.

She's seen it with Callen, she's been scared out of her mind just as much as she's been thrilled by the perspective of hiring Kensi. Those are two broken, scary souls and minds; determined, fierce and tough and anything in between. She knows that they never listen, never believe that anything can really take them down.

Today, though, Hetty thinks that Kensi is aware that, as much as she must loathe the idea, she has a _weakness_; or, at least, something that Kensi sees as such. She has someone else to care for, someone else to _live_ for; something else than the job, or the need for justice and doing good. She has Deeks, and, in a way, in the _scariest_ way ever for someone like Kensi Blye, Deeks _owns_ a part of her.

And maybe that having someone made Kensi even _deadlier_ – because, there's quite nothing she _wouldn't_ do for him, whether she's doomed if she did or did not. Before, she didn't care about dying for the _job_; today, it seemed that she would die a thousand deaths _for_ Deeks.

Hetty really doesn't know what to think of this. So, in the end, she goes for simple, at least for now. She holds back the words on the tip of her tongue, holds back the friendly advices full of good intentions and the official warnings that she has to express as the operation manager. You learn from your mistakes, that much she knows – that much she's experienced herself. She just hopes that they won't regret it, and that she won't have to second-guess bringing Marty Deeks in this team.

There's nothing that would break her more, Hetty thinks, than seeing them fall apart. She has lost agents, partners and colleagues and friends. She has seen them being taken away one by one, in the hands of the enemy, or in the throes of pain and ache, and insanity. They lost two of their own, just barely months ago; she knows that time has yet to help them heal and recover.

She doesn't think that time would be enough for Kensi or Deeks, if they happened to lose one another.

"I don't blame you, Ms. Blye," she says softly. "I just wish you could have shared your plans with the rest of us, instead of _deliberately_ going against my word. We _are_ a team. But…"

She unfolds her hands from under her chin, and opens her drawer to retrieve a set of keys. She hands the keys to Kensi, who looks at them, puzzled. "Car keys, apartment, locker at the gym", Hetty enumerates. "If you think that you need to leave Kensi Blye behind, and _be_ Bianca Sanderson entirely, then, they're yours. If Mr. Deeks agrees, if you _both_ really think this is the best option, do it. But, you have to understand that Ms. Sanderson doesn't carry a gun, nor is a federal agent. She's just another girl who works two jobs while dreaming of the sweet life, a girl who is quite _nothing_ like you. I don't doubt you can do it, I just want you to understand that if you don't stick to the plan, if you can't stay away from your partner, then you have to be Bianca. No meetings at OSP; cryptic calls or messages if you really must contact us; you'll have to go to the fake job we found for you…"

Hetty pauses, and Kensi can't help but look down at her lap. She _is_ ready, she knows it; she also knows that she should be a tiny bit scared, or apprehensive of going deep undercover for the first time – well, second, after their little three weeks-vacation as Justin and Melissa Waring. She knows _this_ is totally different, because those people are as different as can be; and, quite frankly, she hates being silly Bianca just as much (or, maybe a little less) as Deeks loathes the man he has to become.

She can do it, though, and she knows everyone thinks she can. No one doubts her ability and, Kensi isn't usually one to doubt herself either. But, as Hetty's words sink in, Kensi can't deny that, _maybe_, she's right. She's great at what she does: investigating, solving cases. She has instinct, she reacts quickly, and she does wonders even under a lot of stress – damn, she's _even_ better when the world is literally crumbling apart around her. She's good, really – there _is_ a reason why Callen says she's his favorite junior agent: she is the only one who resisted the ridiculous amount of traps and tests both he and Hetty had erected on her way.

She's good, but Deeks has made her _better_; this, when they are together. Alone, on her own again is not something Kensi really wants to experience. And yet, she knows that she would probably help him way much more doing what she's best at. He did it for her, letting her go when she needed to go her own way, and deal with her demons by herself; he has done it, time and time again. He's done it, when even _she_ knew he never wanted to do such a thing.

He helped her, _staying away_. And, maybe she _owes_ it to him to not let her feelings – their undeniable _thing_, interfere with this. He did bring himself to let her go, and she needs to do it, too; she _must_ not let her desperate want (the same aching fear she's oh _so_ sorry for having put him through) put him at risk.

He had said they wouldn't have a minute, even a brief second to go back to being themselves, and she had shaken his resolve with her sheer _presence_. He had softened, kissed her cheek and given her his jacket in that alley; she had woken up in his arms, a tangled mess of arms and legs entwined, fingers stroking her hair and skin during the night. He had been Deeks, and _solely_ Deeks, whenever they got time together; whether it was because he _couldn't_ have her think he was any different or because he couldn't help it, Kensi didn't know. But, quite frankly, she was afraid it would be all her _fault_, and hers only, if he somehow ended up making a mistake.

She loved – more than she should, and way more than what she had _ever_ expected – the way his body molded against hers at night, or even in a sick way Sturridge's possessiveness over her, hands touching and grabbing, showing everyone that he _owned_ her. Nobody owned her; but, knowing it was _Deeks_ touching her and kissing her made it easier to deal with – and maybe that, deep down, Kensi had quite nothing (or not so much) against the idea of Deeks feeling like this about her.

If it was _Deeks_ holding her like _this_, or kissing her like _that_, she would have no problem with it – _more_, Kensi is pretty sure (_has_ to admit) she would love every second of it.

Something else Kensi is pretty sure of, is that if he _has_ to do more than kissing her, if he has to be upset or mad at something Bianca did (just like what he did, that cost him to go into exile for two years), it will probably _kill_ him. Deeks admitted it to her, but even without him voicing his doubts and fears, Kensi _knows_ it. They're _supposed_ to do _whatever_ the mission requires them to – it's the first rule you're taught when you start training: lives and national security depend on your ability to tune down the voices in your head, the scream of guilt, the call of your conscience, and do what you _must_. And this, whether it means watching your partner – your friend and, _dear God_, your _family_ – get hurt to coax intel from you, or just stand by and watch as the most hideous and horrid atrocities are perpetrated in front of your very eyes, without moving a finger.

That's what's expected from them; that's what they do.

Kensi knows she's _not_ ready for this. She knows it, and she can't quite point out if she hates the feeling of not being _strong_ enough, or if she's glad it's still there, nagging at her and tethering her – it both plunges her in depths and waves of insecurity and self-doubt, but it _also_ makes her feel just a bit more human, as if, now, she wasn't on a perpetual suicidal mission.

She has something to lose; ever since her father died, and Jack abandoned her, she has thought she didn't. Dom died, and she couldn't do a thing to help him; gruesome images of Renko falling to the ground in front of her, blood pooling out of him, eyes blinking furiously, still haunt her every nightmare. And yet, she has moved on, she has woken up every day with the ache piercing her heart, but she has left her bed and started a new day. Every single day ever since.

It's her job, her duty, getting up every day and trying to make the world a bit safer, even for a second only. There have been days when she thought she couldn't do it anymore, but she's still there, isn't she ? She's still there fighting, even now that the reasons that made her start fighting are not there anymore – she is there because it's who she _is_.

Who she is doesn't include in its definition making it harder on her partner that it already is, because she _can't_ stay away from him.

Rationally, she knows that the less time she spends with him, the fewer occasions she gives him to have to be _entirely_ Matthew Sturridge with her – violent, remorseless, sick. But, if Kensi Blye was known for being rational and reasonable, people would know. In the end, though, she knows that sometimes, you have to pick your battles, because some are inevitably doomed to crash you under.

In the end, it is just a _tiny_ bit less awful to let him do what he's best at on his own, a tiny bit more acceptable to leave him alone, than to do him harm by being by his side. It _hurts_ – and God knows just how hard it is for Kensi to admit it – but, she has to do what she must. Which is, in this particular case, listening to Hetty.

Oh, how she hates the world now.

Slowly, Kensi nods, and pushes the keys back in Hetty's direction. "I still don't like that," she mumbles like a petulant kid, _that_ Kensi is very aware of.

"I know you don't. None of us do, Kensi," Hetty replied softly, back to using her first name. "Deeks is one of us, he's family, too. None of us is quite ready to let him go somewhere we can't follow and help him – none of us _wants_ to. But, you have to understand we can't lose you _both_. And, I'm certain that you know, deep down, that this vibrant need you feel to be there… This could be your downfall, if you let the fear reign. Being scared is good, Kensi," Hetty continues, and Kensi frowns. "It is, because it means you have something to lose. Something to fight for. But, you can't let the fear of the _what ifs _come first."

Kensi's brow furrows even more, but she nods again. She muses on Hetty's words for a couple minutes, leaving both women revel in the silence and the acceptance between them. Hetty is right – she always is, and Kensi knows it; more, she takes comfort in knowing that, even in the darkest hour, Hetty seems to be the light guiding them home.

Oh God, she hopes she will guide Deeks home soon. Or, she's not sure she will be able to find the patience and grace to wait for this to happen, standing by and watching as the world crashes her partner down.

Kensi lifts up her face to Hetty, and the older woman gives her a small smile, reaching down to pat her hand. "We will get him back, Kensi," Hetty says, as if reading her mind. "Maybe not quite as safe and sound as he was before leaving, but you will have your partner back in no time. You just need to help him the best way you can, so he can do his best to come back home." Hetty pauses, and her smile fades. "Now, you should join the rest of the team upstairs. Mr. Beale and Ms. Jones have some fresh news to share, and Mr. Callen and Hanna are already waiting."

Kensi's eyebrows rise in surprise, and she swallows hard the lump starting to form in her throat. It can't be about Deeks, she _knows_ it, since she left him barely half an hour ago still sleeping soundly. And yet, the thought only of bad news – because, really, everything about this assignment and Deeks being away _is_ bad and _doesn't_ bode at all well – is enough to have a shiver running down her spine. Still, she gets up and climbs the stairs leading to Eric and Nell's office.

On her way there, the only thing running through her mind is a simple, desperate prayer addressed to whom, she doesn't know. She doesn't care, quite frankly. Whoever hears her, whoever or whichever force or divine intervention that can help her will be gladly thanked.

_Please, let him be okay._

As Kensi crosses the sliding doors of the techs' office, and catches a glimpse of the pictures on the giant screen, she starts thinking that her prayer will be oh so hard to grant.


	21. Chapter 21

**Once again, sorry with the delay. With school starting, sticking to the plan and updating as regularly as it's been possible during summer isn't quite as easy. That said, hope you stick around and enjoy the turn of events. :)**

* * *

Girls or booze. The answer to that dilemma worthy of King Salomon for most men has always come easily to him. _Girls_, obviously.

It could sound extremely cocky, and Deeks is sure that most people only think he'd rather go for girls because he thinks he's oh so handsome he doesn't need to wine and dine them to find someone to warm his bed. It's not that – _really_ not. Of course, he knows that the golden curls and the ocean blues do help; it's Los Angeles, _hello_. In this city, the tanner the better, and among all the movie stars and surfers, Deeks perfectly blends in. Girls admit it, girls gush and queue in line, just like they do with the other thousands guys looking just like him. And _yes_, he isn't going to deny he's taken it without putting up a fight. He is no husband material, he knows it, and he has never promised anything to those girls; they never asked, anyway. So, girls; girls _always_ win any competition – he thinks girls on the beach is possibly the best combination, because the rush of the waves is the only thing that gives him a better thrill than bikinis, so the both of them mixed together...

He has not always been a lover boy. When he was just a little kid, neighbors sure found him cute, and little girls were in love with the big baby blues, but he was never so fond of being the center of attention. The closer they got, and the scarier he was that someone could see the marks covered by the long sleeves he used to wear; blossoming bruises, yellow and blue and red from the strong fingers of his father all over the body that now, years after, was possibly the first thing that dragged all those women to him. Years of surfing and working out had done that, and gone was the skinny, lanky eleven year-old that he had been so long ago to be replaced with Marty Deeks, tall, lean and flirty that the ladies loved.

He had never needed a girl to be drunk to fall into his arms – it happened, of course, because no woman but Kensi knew how to hold her liquor; it always all came down to _her_, right ? Kensi was funny when tipsy. He had never seen her really drunk, just overly giddy and happy – and happiness really suited her. The carefree smile, the deliberate swing of her hips, the daring touches… She was _bold_. Agent Blye was bold, too, obviously, but not of the same kind; there was stubbornness and recklessness in her demeanor, when she had her gun. When she hung it up along with her badge, trading them with heels and a cocktail, well… She danced like she had no care in the world, she danced _with_ him; she fluttered her lashes, bumped into his hip, laughed this ridiculous sound caught between a giggle and a snort. And, at the end of the night, he always got the satisfaction of having her willingly hand over her keys, and let him (_trust_ him, really) drive.

He always got to drive; he didn't mind. If Kensi was light and fun while moderately inebriated, Deeks was the exact opposite. One beer, or two turning into three were okay; it wasn't so much that alcohol affected him _quickly_, anyway. Honestly, it really wasn't about the amount of drinks; he could drink his weight and still be in full possession of his abilities. It was _how_ it affected him. It was fun, at first – very much like Kensi, the first drinks they could get on one of their nights out led him to feel more carefree than he'd ever been. Every word or move from either her or him were more playful, teasing – if alcohol made their familiar banter border on flirting (just a tiny bit more than usual, that said), they were still _them_, and that implied dancing around the boundaries, mocking the lines and crossing them, stepping so out of them it seemed they could never go back, but they always did.

The first part of the night was always fun, and Deeks always kept it that way. Because, as the night would draw out, and drinks would collect on the table, the scenery in his head would change. By the time Kensi sat still by his side, leaning a bit into him or any of the guys when they were there, looking a bit more innocent, cuter, younger, Deeks would just toy with the straw in his drink – something that Kensi obviously mocked, calling him Malibu Ken – or trace his finger around the rim of his glass.

The more he drank, the more bitter the memories invading his mind were. Gone were the silly thoughts, the sweet feeling of letting go, the light-headedness, to be replaced with darker, stronger pictures blurring his vision. And those, oh God… The idea only of drinking and having those thoughts _terrified_ him, for it made him feel so much more similar to his _father_. He felt him _inside_ him, as the beat of his heart would start thumping, hammering against his temple, and his blood would pulse and grow heavier in his veins.

Sober, Deeks was known to be laidback, pretty much always calm and collected. Kensi and the team had only caught a glimpse of him losing his temper on very rare occasions – and they all agreed that those occasions would have made them react the same way. No one would ever say that Marty Deeks, goofy, kind and compassionate, could be a violent man. If there was one thing his partner knew, and believed with everything that she was and had, it _was_ this. And yet, twice already had it nearly happened; two nights had found them going out, having fun, letting go of all the stress and pent-up tension, only to end with Deeks almost breaking someone's jaw or nose.

The worst was – and that, Deeks could _never_ forgive himself for – the look in Kensi's eyes. Deeks will never say he _wouldn't_ have done the same were he totally sober, because no one talked or looked at his partner the way those men had. No one touched her, no one only _tried_ to force her to do something she didn't want… But, after way too many drinks, and hours brooding as Kensi was oblivious to the war raging inside his head, he had seen _red_. Literally. The only thing that had stopped him was a much smaller hand than the one he had raised, closed in a fist, and fingers curling in his shirt. And, his partner, _his_ _Kensi_ standing in front of him, telling him it wasn't worth it; and her voice, _weak_, low, and her eyes, mismatched brown staring back at his own stormy blue eyes, filled with confusion, and the slightest hint of fear…

Girls or booze, the choice is easy. It _has_ to be. Because, the day he starts choosing alcohol over a good night of fun, the day he can't stop swallowing drink after drink instead of smiling back to that gorgeous brunette swirling on the dance floor…

That day, he knows he will have completely turned into the man his father once was. A man he has spent his entire life trying, _fighting_ to never hear he somehow looked like him. Most days, most of the time, whether he thinks about it alone, lost and trapped in the dark corners and corridors of his own mind, or when he is forced to talk to someone – Kensi, again, and he can't quite find it in him to hate that she has this hold on him, getting him to talk about his demons – Deeks thinks that his father was a lost cause. That, in a way, nothing, or _no one_ could have saved him. Marriage and fatherhood never worked, only making him angrier with each day passing by. His father had never meant to stick around, and he only did because his mother was pregnant; somehow, deep down, the man had some sense of responsibility, although well covered by layers of cowardice and coldness.

But, on these nights when Deeks drank just a bit more than usual, he felt closer to him – more _understanding_. And, other memories came back to him, memories he has locked, throwing away the key, trying desperately to keep them at bay. Memories that reminded him that his father hadn't always been this mean, heartless guy; memories of a younger Gordon and a younger Marty bouncing on his knees, clapping his hands and cheering for the first Dodgers game he took him to. Memories of peaceful days, oh so rare in the small house where the Brandels lived in Reseda, but that had existed nonetheless.

Sober, Deeks often felt guilty for judging and hating the man, but he couldn't stop it, _couldn't help it_; slightly drunk, as alcohol pulsed in his veins instead of his blood, Deeks understood him – even felt _bad_ for him. Gordon Brandel had been barely twenty-one when his girlfriend of four months, a nice, pretty girl he liked, but was far from being in love with, announced him she was carrying his child. Lauren was eighteen, and finishing her last year in high school, and he had never imagined spending his life with her. She was pretty, she was kind and soft and everything that he wanted, but only for _now_; Gordon was way too young to want any of this – to be _ready_ for it. And yet, he had bought her a ring and got down on one knee, and she had cried and thrown her arms around his neck, and eight months later, little Martin was born.

The story differed, whether it was told by his mom or his father. As he had grown older, and his father even more bitter and frightening, only Gordon's version had made sense. Lauren used to say that even in the middle of winter, January, 8th had been a bright, sunny Monday, and that the one thing that had made the day even prettier was his birth, and the sound of his cries reverberating in the delivery room. His mother had quite a talent with words, and the simplest thing turned so beautifully when she put it in words; oh, how Deeks had smiled and _loved_ this version. His father usually just shrugged, saying it was just another day (it was even pouring hard, in his memory of it); and this, up until the day when his son, his very existence, really started bothering him – up until the day little Marty, even at such a young age, had realized that his father truly _hated_ him.

There had been days of bliss and haven even after Gordon had really slipped further away from his family. Days when, possibly because he was too tired to get up and run to the store, there was no alcohol in the house, and he was too tired to be mad. These days… Deeks hates the fact that they became good memories.

When he is in this state, when alcohol blurs the lines between his father and him, when he's not so sure anymore of what he feels for him, if he hates him, or if he regrets not having been a better son so his dad would love him like all the other dads… Confusion overwhelms him, confusion settles over him, filling him with doubt and emotions he can't quite name, and can't fight.

Drinking makes him punch a guy in the face – or try to – because he touched Kensi; because his filthy hands ventured where they shouldn't, and though he knows better than to try and protect Kensi (defend, save her, whatever) because she clearly _doesn't_ need him, he still aimed first without letting her fight her own battles. If rage and anger hadn't make his blood boil, at the same time as he had felt like ice was filling his veins, straight to his heart, burning and freezing him, Deeks could have shrugged it off. But, he knows what occurred in his mind those nights. He knows that the look in these men's eyes, almost _feral_ as they drank in Kensi, reflected in his own but much, _much_ more dangerous and lethal was the spark there. Deeks knows it, because as Kensi had stood, her palm on his chest, and her eyes finding his, he could see that she was looking for something.

She was looking for _him_, behind this flare of anger and the veil of hatred.

And Deeks knows it, because the look in her gorgeous dark orbs… He's seen this look thousand times, along with trembling lips and tears gathered at the corner of his mother's own sky blues. It was the very same look, confusion, fear mingled with shock, and something more – something that suspiciously felt like _hurt_. As if seeing him raise a hand, though not aimed to hit _her_, had shaken her to the core; as if seeing him lose control, had her lose her own. Her sanity, her trust in him and them and everything she believed about him.

She had never mentioned the subject again, and he was too scared of losing her to ask; ask if what he was afraid of was true, if she somehow thought less of him because of that.

Girls or booze. Anything over alcohol, really. Deeks had never allowed himself to slip, and he had already failed on few occasions, but oh so many in his book – _too many_.

Tonight, though, with this assignment that has already pierced through the walls around him meant to remind him of who he is, taken his guard down and earned him a ticket for Hell, he seriously reconsiders this choice he's been making for years.

* * *

As he lifts his glass to his lips, sipping slowly, he knows now that there are worse things than letting his father in for a few hours. He will regret it when morning comes, and he wakes up with a huge hangover, and red knuckles from fighting or falling, stumbling on his own feet. He knows he will regret it, though regret is not the right word. He will _hate_ himself for it, for drinking so much, for being in that state when he's no longer certain of anything, even his own identity. But, Deeks muses, it's still better than touching any of these women.

Any other day, if asked, Deeks would have chosen girls. _Not tonight_. Not when, as he's lazily slumped on his seat, one arm on the back of the chair, the other clasped around his drink, he knows what's happening near. Not here, not in this club, but _somewhere_. In some other club, or some other building arranged especially for this, there are women living hell.

And even though he knows he couldn't expect to save them in one day, he can't help but feel that he's been out there for two weeks, and that so far, he has no clue of their whereabouts, or how to reach them, and help them.

He's supposed to celebrate his new job. A job that only consists in taking care of the drug selling part of the organization; more precisely, Matthew Sturridge is in charge of making sure that the people coming to them are not going to backpedal and be burdens they will have to get rid of. Javier had confided in him that so far, it had been Esteban's role, but that he was not that good at reading people. Esteban was messy and more of a business man, good with money, than a dealer. The men in the pictures Javier had showed him were clients or wannabes that couldn't be trusted to keep their mouths shut, and others had had to clean the mess after. Deeks still waited for news from OSP about the drug Avery had offered him, and Sturridge was not supposed to get directly involved in the selling. Paradoxically enough, his job was very close to the one of detective; he was supposed to tail, gather info about people, and his talent of observation that had made his reputation years ago when he first started working for Alvaro Marquez made him the best man for the job.

Tonight is supposed to be a fun night spent with the guys, and the very few who appreciate his return, like Javier. He is supposed to love the attention he gets from women in the club, women who smile at him or whisper and giggle in their friends' ear. Women who stop by their table, or who just pass by, putting up a good show for him.

Deeks has principles – a code to live by. Morals, ethics; even though he's great at what he does, there are still things he can't bring himself to do. He's done many things, terrible things he's ashamed of, but there's still that little voice inside him that can be heard, a voice just barely above a whisper during those nights when he knows he _has_ to do whatever he _must_ to keep cover. Keeping cover at all cost is precisely what the success of the op depends on – if he doesn't, it will be just as if he himself had killed all these women. But, now, this voice sounds more familiar, belonging to someone he's afraid of losing, more than he's ever been afraid of anything. It's the voice of a woman he respects and admires, a woman he loves, a woman he simply cannot live without.

It's the voice guiding him home.

It's a voice he's pretty sure could make him back out and leave, if he somehow heard it saying these things that scare him – that she's disappointed in him, and who he's become. That she doesn't recognize the man she knew, the man she trusted to have her back and be there for her. The man she thought was good and honorable, and who deserved to be part of her life.

He really hopes she understands – the rational part of him reckons she does, and will; but, as he empties his drink (and God only knows how many he's had of those before, because he sure doesn't), and his brain starts feeling the flood of liquor invading his senses, Deeks is certain of nothing. The only thing he knows is that even though Matthew Sturridge is a playboy who sleeps around, and who takes whatever he wants, whenever he feels like it, _he_ can't do it. The things he's done as Sturridge before, and other aliases of his, can't be erased; they allowed him to save lots of innocent lives, and put a halt to many criminal organizations in the city he grew up in and swore to protect and serve.

But, he did them all before meeting Kensi. Before his job became the _second_ most important thing in his life.

It only makes things even more complicated, Deeks is aware of that. He knows that he should be choosing a girl for the night now, among all those devouring him; he knows that he should take comfort in knowing that they are very willing and eager to spend time in his arms, if only for five minutes, pinned to a wall and held by strong arms, unlike the women whose pictures adorned the walls of the LAPD's building. If it was really necessary, Deeks knows that there was a time when he would have done it, done whatever he needed to keep cover.

He would have felt dirty, but he would have done it anyway. Because, Matthew Sturridge is that kind of guy, more into girls than alcohol or drugs, though he still used from time to time.

Tonight, though, everyone nods and accepts the fact that Matthew Sturridge wants to drink and escapes in some other world, instead of letting his eyes roam over the crowd until one girl stood out. Avery pats his shoulder, grinning as he says that his girlfriend must be really great in bed for him to not even seem interested in all the hot chicks around. He shrugs, and the guys who met Bianca at the dinner agree, asking for details.

God, he tells them what they want to hear, that Bianca is the good girl that she has to be, and does everything he wants. That he just has to call her and she'll be there in no time, ready to follow him home or in the back alley. That, _yeah_, she's hot, and all _his_, hooked that she is.

Jackson is flirting with a girl who seems to fall for it; Jackson is good-looking, just a bit too shy or insecure to make the first step, and often requires the help of his friends to get a girl to follow him home. Half the other guys who joined the celebration are dancing and looking for their prey, as the others are drinking, or getting high. Deeks thinks he saw a needle, but he's too tired to really be sure.

He's tired, and his heartbeat is pulsing hard in his temple. But, if he just stays here, sitting while watching the others have fun, people will start wondering what's up with the infamous Matthew Sturridge. It's one thing to not bend some girl over the table and ravish her there because he's not in the mood, but it's one entirely another thing to just stay there, and do nothing.

So, he drinks. He keeps drinking, even if he throws the content on the floor when no one is looking. Problem is, Sturridge is some kind of a leader, and people always ask for his opinion, waiting for him to call it a night, or go to another club. Some hate him, others see in him the man who should have taken over after Alvaro Marquez went to jail. So, Deeks doesn't get to fake drinking a lot. But, he doesn't stop.

He doesn't stop, even when he's had so much to drink both Avery and another guy help him to the bathroom where he falls onto his knees and empties his stomach for long minutes. He doesn't stop, because it's still better than kissing another woman who doesn't know the pervert, the sadistic man that Matthew Sturridge is. It's better than pushing her to the wall, lift her in his arms, and take her right there.

He really doesn't believe it will make a difference, the day he is judged for everything he's ever done. But, to him, there is one. Ever slight, ever tiny, there is. As long as he's making a _choice_, even if it's the bottle, the same choice his father made every day even when his mother pleaded him to stop, even if he chooses to get drunk every night… He's still able to make a choice.

He decides to get drunk, instead of touching any woman there. It's okay, because there is Bianca, and everyone seems happy that the golden boy has found himself a girl. They all know he's never going to be faithful, not for long anyway, and they find very funny that for now, Matthew seems to think of his hot babe, and her only. He will come around, they know it; after all, that's what they all do. Wives have tucked the kids in bed, and are waiting for them at home; girlfriends will gladly accept them in their beds tonight, even if they smell like alcohol and sex. That's what they do.

Alcohol, he can deal with – he has to. He never thought he would ever have to choose booze over girls. But, there's no way he can do that and still be able to look at his reflection in the mirror.

Kensi will understand. She has to.

Hetty, Callen and Sam will, too. They've all done things they're not proud of, things they can't erase. Things and memories that won't ever leave, and that litter their shattered lives, plunging them in a vast gulf of regrets, waves of nausea and ache, trailing a path of invisible scars that still were ever present, and impossible to forget or heal from.

Eric and Nell don't need to know. God, he hopes that with everything they've witnessed over the years, there's still some untouched part of them that can separate and compartmentalize what they see and hear, and who they are outside of OSP.

His mom would be so ashamed.

His dad would smirk, and say that in the end, he's not so different from old Gordon.

Tom would understand. Maybe he'd have trouble understanding why his step-son chose that particularly hard path, one you can't come back from once you've taken it. But, he would understand.

Deeks is not even sure of what he thinks of all of this. He doesn't find it in him to care right now. All he hopes, all he can think of before the night really start to become a blurry haze, is that Kensi will be there when this is all over.

When he wakes up the following morning, still dressed but in his bed, alone, looking like hell but with no evidence of a fight, whether it means injuries on his body, or his hands red from beating the shit out of someone, Deeks knows that he can't do this forever. That he has to make things go faster, that these women don't have time, and that he can't waste his doing this every night.

He knows nothing is ever that easy, though.

He knows there's no way everything just falls into his hands, or that a couple weeks can be enough to put an end to something that has been lasting for months. More, he's sickened by the idea that so far, he has no real proof that Marquez, father and son, are involved in the human trafficking ring. He saw the women, but in this world, it's so easy to get some entertainment it doesn't mean a thing.

He knows that he can spend months here, with them, for nothing.

He knows other women will more likely be abducted during that time. That some will die, too. That Sophia Alvarez, the one girl who made that LAPD case a NCIS one, is going through hell right now.

And yet, when he wakes up, and reckons that he's done no harm the night before, the only thing Deeks can do is utter a single prayer, thanking a God he's never believed in.


	22. Chapter 22

**Long time no see, y'all. Working on this story has been a very difficult and long process - lack of motivation, disappointment, plenty of conflictions emotions plaguing me and making it really hard to focus on this. But... Here it is, finally. For those of you still there, hope you enjoy. :) An immense thank you for all of you who have waited patiently and encouraged me, and who appreciated the other stories posted in between.**

* * *

"Madison Rose," Eric says, eyes fixed on his touchpad, never meeting Kensi's, or the pictures on the screen. "Twenty-four years-old, reported missing four months ago. Her body was found early this morning in Marina del Rey harbor."

Kensi clutches her hand on the edge of the table in the middle of the operation center, once again desperately missing the comfort of her partner's body next to her. Deeks was always so close, standing so very close to her, that Kensi had gotten used to it; to the idea that if she failed to hide her emotion, a hand would gently lay on her back, or fingers wrap around her arm, no words uttered, no questions asked.

She doesn't miss the way Callen and Sam look at her when she steps into the techs' office, as if they already knew what hers and Hetty's conversation was about, and the outcome. She's grateful, though, that none of them tries to take Deeks' place, or stands by her side. They just watch her from afar, Callen's impossible to read cobalt blues piercing her as Sam's warm brown eyes strangely reminds her of her partner's, the care and concern so clear in them.

"LAPD contacted us immediately," Nell continues, avoiding Kensi's gaze, too. "Our guess is that it's as much for the sake of joint operation as it's because they're overwhelmed. First estimation of the time of death is last night, between 9PM and midnight. She suffered from multiple severe blows to the stomach and torso, but nothing fatal. We're still waiting on the coroner for the cause of death," Nell finishes quickly, sighing heavily, the shudder in her breathing shaking her petite frame. It's on one of those moments that it strikes Kensi, just how much their analyst and tech they so rely on have to bear, day after day. How many gruesome pictures and videos have they watched every single second of in search for clues, how many times did they stand there, helpless and frightened upon seeing their friends on the verge of having their covers blown and maybe their heads too in the process, all of this playing on the big screen ?

If Deeks was there, he would crack a joke.

Or he would silently come closer to her, the reassuring heat of his body sinking into hers, the simplest brush of skin enough to ease the war in her.

Problem is, he's _not_.

And next time, it might as well be his body, battered and bruised, bloody and _lifeless_, showing on that very screen. Nell definitely wouldn't be the only one shuddering then. "It can't be any of the Marquezs," Kensi finally says, nodding her head. "They were both at the party. We were there by the late afternoon, and they arrived not so much later. With Esteban's wife and son. It can't be any of them."

_It can't be Deeks either_, Kensi can't help but think, too. She was with him, they've spent the entire week-end together. It can't be him… but it _could be,_ someday. Maybe tomorrow he is the one in charge of disposing of a body. Maybe tomorrow he is the one beating a poor girl black and blue until the desperate pleas subside, until her eyes flutter close, _until_… Maybe tomorrow he is the one pushing a woman against a wall in a dark alley, a hand on her mouth to keep her from screaming for help; maybe tomorrow he _is_ the monster who looks at this woman with a sick smile on his lips, and tells that if she moves, if she says a word, he'll kill her pretty baby or take her little girl and give her to the first perv who wants her. Maybe tomorrow he is the one who does all of this, when he's spent months haunted by nightmares and guilt plaguing him upon not doing anything, not doing more to help and save all those women who are already at their mercy.

And all the others whose bodies were found.

And all the others that will come and die, even now that Matthew Sturridge is back.

"Kens," Callen's voice calls her, something in his tone so close to what she hears so often in her partner's it startles her. "You're gonna work with Sam. You two go see the coroner, I'll go to the crime scene."

He doesn't trust her on her own – honestly, Kensi's not even sure she trusts herself at the moment either. She's not used to work with Sam or Callen _anymore_, though; there used to be a time when she was the third wheel in the dream team, and even on the very rare occasions where Mike Renko – God, Renko – crossed their path and came to work with them, Kensi was meant to tag along with him. She's never worked alone – she is the junior agent, and when Dom was there, she had felt more than once like being assigned to baby-sitting. Dom was young, inexperienced, and it had been her job to take care of him, show him the moves, like Callen once had for her.

But Marty Deeks is the first one for whom the word _partner_ holds such meaning.

And not having him there by her side, and getting to work with someone she doesn't have the same level of understanding feels just like someone ripped the rug out from under her when she finally felt like she had been given some sort of stable ground.

Callen leaves the room, followed short by Sam, but Kensi doesn't make any move to join them; she thinks they know it, anyway. They're giving her time and space before she has to climb in Sam's car and be Agent Blye again – right now, she's Kensi, _solely Kensi,_ the woman whose best friend is alone, with no one at his back, and for whom her heart aches.

The woman who is afraid she might never see the person she loves the most alive again.

Above all, what scares Kensi the most is the idea of all the terrible things Deeks has to do to keep cover, and how they affect him; she can't find comfort in the idea of him being alive if he's not well. If _being_ Sturridge again takes something from him forever – if being Sturridge takes him away from her.

Eric and Nell are busy typing on their keyboards, some sort of silent agreement between them not to look at her, not acknowledging the fact that she's still there. Kensi is both glad and grateful, but at this instant, feels so incredibly lonely, left alone in her despair, that she'd give anything for them to say something – to just look at her. Shaking her head and squeezing her eyes shut for a second, refusing to let any tears roll, hating herself for the welling, even, Kensi stands tall, her head high before she walks to them. She stops in between them, and her voice is soft, low when she speaks. "You… you gotta let him know that…"

She sighs heavily, her hands clenching on the back of both their chairs. "You have to let Deeks know I want to be here, that – it's _Hetty's_ call. That if I could be there, I would." His own words from more than a year ago reverberating in her head, Kensi closes her eyes again for the briefest moment – Deeks _did_ go to the ends of the earth for Hetty, for them, _for her_. That's a truth no one can deny as much as no one has truly ever acknowledged it; if his badge still showed LAPD, it was clear to everyone that Deeks' loyalty laid with NCIS, with this team that had taken so long to warm up to him, to welcome him and see him as one of their own. And yet Deeks had laid down badge and gun to follow them on this almost suicidal mission, because that's what Marty Deeks does.

He'd _never_ leave his partner behind.

"That I'm not abandoning him…" Kensi finishes in a breath.

Nell finally looks up to her, her hazel eyes gleaming with what Kensi can only guess as unshed tears. Oh, how she wishes she could just let go like this, sit there with them all day without having the pressure of needing to be at the top of her game and pretend everything is fine. _Nothing's fine_, for God's sakes, and all Kensi wants now is to have some time to patch her wounds – invisible wounds for everyone else, but the fear nagging at her, creeping up her system with every hour passing by without Deeks at her side has become insufferable. It's _killing_ her, and the gnawing dread is nothing like she's ever felt before.

"He knows it, Kensi," Nell offers gently, a small, shy smile on her lips meant to beg for forgiveness at her own emotion; they _all_ miss Deeks, they're _all_ worried, but _of course_ it's worse for Kensi. A thousand times worse for his partner, for the one who knows him better than anyone else before.

Kensi opens her mouth, ready to protest – she's grateful for the compassion, for the reassurance Nell is trying to bring her, but… Is it so weak of her to want Deeks to have the confirmation of to whom exactly her loyalty belongs ? That she'd rather face danger with him, than be safe when he's not ? That she'd give anything, ask favors from anyone, if that could allow her to be with him every step of the way, like he's always been for her ? If _this_ is a weakness, then for the very first time in her life, Kensi will admit it without so much of a fight. But she doesn't get the chance to; before words can form in her head and come out of her mouth, Eric interrupts her. "But we will make sure to pass the message. Don't worry, Kens."

He smiles at her more frankly, a warmth in his eyes that the agent hasn't seen in a long time. She misses this Eric, sometimes; the Eric she saw as a brother, the one who called her Kens, the one who seemed to genuinely love their karaoke nights that they all only went to because Hetty forced them, the one who has their backs even though he sits there in front of his computer screen. Callen has Sam, she has Deeks, and now Eric has Nell – it's necessary in their line of work to have someone to rely one, someone to hold onto. But sometimes, Kensi misses the dynamic they all had at the very beginning.

But now, thinking of her partner, Kensi can no longer feel like this. She can no longer miss that, when she has a partner who also happens to be her best friend and the only person she trusts. And if Nell means even only _a tenth_ to Eric of what Deeks means to her… "Thank you. Both of you," she replies softly, giving a nod and a smile to Nell as she brings a hand to Eric's shoulder and squeeze there gently.

"We'll get him back," Eric presses, a certainty in his tone that Kensi envies him for a second. She knows he's saying that for her sake as much as for his, but she can't help reciprocating his smile.

Eric is right, though.

She _will_ get Deeks back, no matter what.

* * *

Kensi's nervous, and Sam can easily tell so. Her leg's fidgeting, she's biting on her nails and she's staring outside the window, never saying a word. Not even trying to hide it. For having heard Deeks complain endlessly about her awful tastes in music and how she would never let him choose the radio station – _It's better than your cheesy pop songs_, he's heard her mock a hundred times – Sam is surprised that Kensi seems to be oblivious to the world and the current silence in the space between them. He knows that Kensi is _not_ comfortable with silence, that's just something that you pick after years working together, years of late night stake-out with Kensi being restless and jumping from conversation topic to another to fill the void. Sam smiles softly, realizing that here is a similarity between the junior agent and their liaison officer that he'd never drawn until now.

He sort of hates the thoughts that have to be plaguing her mind to make her close down like this. Sam likes to think that Kensi knows she can always come to him – he knows without the shadow of a doubt that he'd do anything for her or any member of this team, and _yes_, this including Deeks. And Kensi's evident unease showing in the tension in her shoulders, her lips firmly clasped together, the way she avoids eye-contact… it's enough to make him want to let her know just that.

They're a team, but more than that, they're friends. A family. And he won't let the young woman he considers a sister go on like this, no. So that's why he pulls up into an almost parking space near the morgue; far enough, though, so Kensi can't actually believe that they're gonna walk there. He's giving her a way out – if she doesn't want this conversation to happen, this little fleeting moment to relax and confide in someone, then Sam will start the engine again. She needs it, though. And Sam hopes Kensi will let him be there for her, since the only one she probably would let comfort her isn't here.

Kensi cocks an eyebrow, immediately catching up with Sam's plan. She can't bring herself to be mad, even though she feels trapped like a prey – there's a tenderness in Sam's gaze that she simply cannot hate, because there's no judgment there, no questioning of her abilities or capacity to be out on the field and focus on the job. He just wants to be there for her. Her heart constricts, but not in a painful way at the very thought.

She sighs, mentally counting to ten as she tries to control her breathing again. It's now or never, she reckons – if there ever will be a time to break down, it's _now_, and Kensi thinks of another day, not so long ago, when Deeks' voice had been all the solace she had needed to pull herself together. She can't have that now, can't have _him_, since his absence is the very object of her afflictions; and if there's someone Kensi knows she can say this to without being judged, it's Sam.

Callen's no good with feelings. She loves him very much, but sharing is just not something they do. Hetty…well, she's her boss, and though she's always been understanding and offering Kensi the reassurance she was seeking, there's just something innately wrong about the idea of going to Hetty after the talk they had just earlier.

Kensi can't help but resent her for keeping her away from her partner. So, no, not Hetty.

Sam's emotional openness balances Callen's inability of talking about his feelings, just like Deeks is the perfect antidote to her warranted, pessimistic personality. If Callen and she are very alike, preferably going lone wolf rather than asking for help, Kensi knows that them teaming up would be a terrible idea – he needs Sam just as much as she _needs_ Deeks.

They both need a little bit of hope in the darkness, in the intricacies of their own scary minds. And that's what makes Kensi opens up, in the end. "I hate being there when my partner is in harm's way. I'm sure you understand."

"I do," Sam says, his voice calm, soothing. "But Deeks… He has skills, he's excellent at what he does. Deep cover… that's who he is, Kens." Sam smiles to himself, lightly shaking his head. "I can't believe I'm the one saying that." Kensi snorts, but it's a start, he reckons. "He's been doing this for years, and he's great at it. He's perfectly capable of handling any situation. And honestly… I'm sure he feels better knowing that you're safe. This way, he doesn't have to worry about you, about how your cover could get blown and not his, how you could end up getting killed in front of him…"

Sam doesn't say it, but Kensi perfectly knows what should follow: Deeks could very well have to hurt _her_. And Kensi knows he could never, and that both their covers could be blown and that nothing can guarantee that back-up would get to them on time - because back-up is just not an option there. _She_ could get them killed. She _knows_ it – but never before in her life have her personal life and her job interfered so much with each other, lines so blurred Kensi simply cannot separate what she wants from what she should do.

"I don't think that Deeks wants you anywhere around these people, and the things he has to witness _and_ participate to. I know that he would never forgive himself, even if you did, if he ever had to touch you…" At this, Sam stops, seeming to have trouble with formulating those specific thoughts, as if he knew that what he is about to say won't please Kensi, at all. It's the understatement of the century: Kensi Blye could kill him for such bold thoughts. "You're…you _are_ the pretty face of the team, Kens. Eye-candy, the one who makes even the greatest criminal masterminds spit out their secrets with one swing of the hips. And maybe it's sexist, but that's what you do. We all have to do things we don't want, things that disgust us – and of all those things, hitting one of us, a friend, a colleague… That got to be the worst. And hitting _you_…"

Sam stops, fully turning in his seat to face her now. "We've been working together for, what, almost five years now ?" he asks, to which Kensi nods. He can see on her features that she doesn't like where he's aiming at, but she stays silent, pursuing her lips but letting him continue. "I remember all the occasions when I had to hit you. The first time, I smacked you across the cheek. The second, I cut your lip. The third, your jaw was swollen for over a week. And again, maybe it's sexist, but hitting you, it's worse than having to hit Callen. Or Deeks." He laughs, and smiles just a bit upon seeing the color rise back to Kensi's skin. "You're like my little sister. The very idea of you in pain is unbearable to me, just like it is to Callen, and Deeks. Maybe even more to Deeks, now… You have to understand that with you out there with him, he's gonna worry over that all the time. He's gonna lose his mind, Kens, and at the moment, if he needs something, it's this: keeping his mind clear off his feelings for you. Off of who he _really_ is."

"Callen told me the same thing," Kensi finally admits in a whisper. It doesn't sound as real if she doesn't say it too loud – the scary truth behind it won't sink in just yet if she keeps it as a confession.

"He's right. Deeks needs to focus. Deep cover means no contact, no strings attached. He can't be Sturridge if his heart and mind are with you."

Kensi nods, knowing that Sam – and Callen, and Hetty, and even Deeks at the start of it all – are right. She doesn't know deep cover, she doesn't know what it feels like to be completely, utterly _alone_ out there; but that's what Deeks has to do. Leaving everyone behind, abandoning who you are to be someone else, 24/7, being on your own with no back-up, it's what this job requires. She knows it, even though she's never gone through it herself. She can only guess the amount of courage and strength someone's gotta have for this.

But… She _can't_ be Agent Blye if her heart and mind are with him, either.


	23. Chapter 23

**I swear I'm not trying to take forever to update. :) Thanks to all of you for the support to this story and the response to Afterglow for those who read, favorited and reviewed. Now, on with the story.**

* * *

"I gotta admit it, my dear boy, you're one hell of a kind." Sebastian Marquez holds out his glass, clinking it with Deeks' who smiles politely, _Matthew's_ casual, almost nonchalant arrogance ever present on his lips. "How did you achieve that so quickly ?" he asks, fanning his face with the roll of bills.

Deeks shrugs. "I got Av to work with me. He doesn't mind getting his hands dirty. It gave me the opportunity to…" He brings his glass to his lips, slowly sipping his drink – Scotch, at barely 5PM, burning his throat. "I've found out that fear ain't the best way to make people pay. Not fear for their life, that is. I – I tried to think of a way, and…" He rubs his chin, and more than looking for his words, Deeks actually fights the hardest battle ever warring in him – sounding enthusiastic, _proud_, even, of what Matthew did. "You threaten people, but they don't necessarily believe you'll do it, you know ? Sure, there are the ones who pee their pants and sell their kidney to pay, but the others… They threaten to call the cops, and then we have to do something about it, and things get messy – _out of hand_, if you don't know what you're doing. So, I wanted to do something about that. To avoid mistakes. And here I was, like, wondering what's worse than fear." He tilts his head slightly, the gesture, almost adorable, never matching the feral glint in his dark blue eyes. "We decently can't go after everyone they love to make them pay, that'd draw attention on us, mistakes would be made."

Sebastian nods; they both know that mistakes have _already_ been made. Not big enough to give the LAPD the evidence they need to shut this down, or even the slightest hint to hold onto, but Esteban's march of order hasn't been the most cautious one, nor the cleverest; he's a charmer, sure, and he's good with money, but orchestrating such a ring isn't his thing, and sooner or later, it'll be too late for Sebastian to pick up the pieces and cover his tracks. "$ 20,000 in four days, that's one hell of a way to make people pay, Matthew." The pride in the older man's voice hits Deeks right in the gut; it kills him, but at the same time… He can't help making the comparison between Matthew Sturridge, the monster who's so good at what he does and is seen as a prophet by his _friends_, and Marty Deeks who in nearly thirty-four years has never managed to do anything worthy of a compliment from anyone. Marty Deeks who, as a kid, has never been enough for his father; Marty Deeks who, as one of the youngest detectives LAPD has known, was still not good enough for his mother who showed her disappointment in him so clearly. Marty Deeks, the Liaison Officer coordinating joint operations between LAPD and NCIS, who was still not good enough to be treated as an equal, and was just seen at first as the temp people couldn't wait to get rid of.

_They want you now. They were all afraid for you, they all wanted to do something._

_Kensi was upset. Kensi was afraid. Kensi wants to be there._

But she's _not_ there. And that reality hits him so much more than any misplaced sense of gratitude at the pride someone's finally showing in him, even though he's not Matthew. It's misplaced and sick, really, but the lines are so thin, the boundaries so hard to keep drawing day after day… Matthew is a horrible person and yet people look up to him when no one ever would for Marty; Matthew can get any girl he wants to blindly follow him to heaven or hell, when Marty has never been good enough for anyone to want to stick around.

And that hurts even more after having a taste of what meaning something to someone feels like.

After allowing himself to _believe_ that he meant something to Kensi.

After knowing what her lips on his tasted like.

God, how he wants her to be there – _needs_ her to be there to remind him that it _should_ be thousand times better to be Marty Deeks than Matthew Sturridge.

He empties his glass, his lips lingering on the rim a moment after he's done before he puts it back on the table. "_Secrets_. Everyone got them. And everybody's afraid of being exposed. Unfaithful spouses, affairs with teenagers, daddy issues, bondage issues… Pick your favorite." Deeks smirks, his smirk so unlike his usual one, so unlike Kensi's. "There's this dude who always paid on time, and I was like, that gotta mean he's got the money, but he doesn't look like that kind of guy, ya know ? Ended up that he was fetching his boss' guilty pleasure. And his boss… Man, he got money alright. _Power_, too. I added 25% to the price for secrecy."

Sebastian's smile only grows wider. He picks several bills from the roll and lays them on the table, sliding them toward Deeks. Deeks doesn't need to count to see that there's at least 5,000 dollars there. "Keep going like this, Matt, and you could easily make those 20,000 dollars per week. Have fun tonight." Sebastian leans in, crooking his finger to beckon Deeks to do the same. His voice is soft, almost _fatherly_ as he continues. "Give your girl a call, take her out. Buy her something. That's the best way to keep her."

"I'm not sure I wanna." He shrugs. "Sure, she's fucking hot, but… There's nothing so special 'bout her."

"Ah, I beg to differ there, Matt," Sebastian replies, an amused look crossing his eyes. It's almost as if he feels like there's a father/son moment going on. "How old are you, _hijo_ ?"

"31."

"I had been married for five years and Esteban was learning how to walk by the time I was 31," he continues, refilling both their glasses. "You're nothing without a woman by your side, Matt. At the end of the day, there's no greater comfort than going home to your wife and children." Marquez sighs and leans in, putting his chin above his linked hands. "It's not an easy life we lead, but that's our life. Every day I wake up and do it to guarantee a good life to my son, just like he does for his and for the little one on the way. We do what he have to, Matthew. It's us or them, here's how it goes: never shoot back –"

"Always shoot first," Deeks finishes in a whisper. His gut twitches, and all of a sudden he wants nothing but running out and throw up; the nausea takes him, but he fights against it. His legs wouldn't help him, anyway; he's glued to the spot and couldn't get up now even if we could. "Isn't it harder, with a family I mean ? Kind of a weakness, no ?"

"Because it's hard doesn't mean it's not worth fighting for," Marquez shrugs. He studies Deeks' face carefully, eyes locking with his as he goes on. "There are days you can't go through without knowing there's someone waiting at home for you. When my Ana was still with us, she could make me forget about everything, including who I am, or what I did. She could…remind me that whatever I do, it's for my family, and that makes it all okay. Family… It means _everything_, Matthew. You do whatever it takes for family, you cry, you bleed – family, that's all you need. Think about it. In the meantime, take a few days off. You've been amazing, you deserve the rest. Take your girl out, have fun for me."

Sebastian gives him a warm smile as he stands, squeezing his shoulder on the way. "Not any woman can understand what we do, _hijo_. But, you don't have to say everything either. Women all are the same: they want love and protection, to know that you can provide for them and the children they will bring to this world. They need someone to take care of them. You can do that. You could be rich, Matthew, you could have the life you've always dreamed. So, think about it. If you ever need another few days off for your girl, feel free."

And with that, Marquez leaves.

Just like that.

Like it's completely natural to drown people in a river because they didn't pay you for the drugs you sell all over the city. Like it's totally random to abduct women and young girls and sell them to whoever wants them, to force them into prostitution and to kill them if they resist, fight or have become of no use.

Just like going to church once a week and say _Forgive me Father for I have sinned_ is enough to wipe the slate clean.

Deeks wonders if Sebastian really believes that what he does is the right thing. It wouldn't really change a thing, he'd still dedicate however long it takes to bring him down; but he wonders. He wonders if someone can really end up not seeing the difference between good and evil. Through the years, Deeks reckons he's seen his fair share of evil – he thinks he knows a thing or two about it – but not on many occasions has he met someone like Sebastian Marquez, truly believing that what they do is legitimate in the course of the pursuit of happiness.

Deeks has seen too many things to truly believe that no man chooses evil because it is evil. But mostly, he knows that now is not the time to think about that. He has to _focus_ – focus on the women and teenage girls, focus on getting the job done, focus on not making a mistake. Focus on what he must do, and not what he desperately wants.

God, he knows that Kensi would be there if she could.

Doesn't keep her absence from hurting like hell.

* * *

Another day passes by, another day without any new hint or lead, no evidence, _nothing_. The results for the drugs Matthew's friends are using come back from the lab and show nothing that they didn't already know: it's hard stuff, a combination of pretty much everything on the market, and you can find them just about anywhere these days, when you know where to look. From what Kensi have observed and Deeks' talk with Avery Lynch, anything you want is available out there as long as you know someone who knows someone, and then… Reluctant girl who needs a little extra push to take off her dress ? There's a powder for that. Embarrassing shyness or lack of seduction skills ? There's a magic pill to make you forget all about it and score girl after girl.

It makes Kensi shudder just to think that they're going to need Deeks to ask Lynch where he can find those if they want to compare the drug to the substance found in their latest victim's blood. Knowing that he won't use it himself doesn't really help; the simple thought of her partner having to sell another one of the few remnants of his soul makes her sick.

Callen comes back with no better news. The crime scene was pristine clean, Madison Rose having clearly been killed someplace else, her body only dropped at the marina. She died from a blow to the head, the other injuries only showing the rage her killer must have been in; _why_, they'll never know. What did she do to deserve to be beaten black and blue ? Did she fight and resist, did she try to escape ? Was she too hard to handle, too feisty ?

Even though no one voices it, they all know what it means.

If they can kill them so easily, it's because they know they can find other girls just as easily. And _that_ means that within a few hours or days, there might well be another woman gone missing. Another Madison, another Sophia; another wife, sister, daughter abducted and held against her will, abused, drugged and raped, for the sake of what ? _Money_ ?

It's a week after they found Madison Rose's body that things start to change, even if ever slowly. A week of Kensi going crazy and running in circles, all the while pretending that she's damn fine – no one believes it and she knows it, but that's what she's been doing for the last fifteen years and Kensi is nowhere near ready to give up the habit. The only one she lets in – calling her out on her obvious lies, bribing her with smiles and sweets to coax the truth out of her – is not there, and she reckons she has every damn right to handle her emotions the way she wants.

Focusing on the job _is_ her therapy. Asking her if she's okay only angers her more.

She's angry at herself for not convincing Hetty to let her fully in with Deeks, at the same time as she hates herself for not persuading Deeks into not accepting this assignment. If something ever happened to him… God, Kensi would never be able to forgive herself for it.

One morning, after a week without seeing Deeks, finds the team gathered in the OSP center listening to a voicemail from his alias' number that he left late the night before. God, how Kensi has missed that voice – it's clearly Sturridge's intonations and words, but she still finds a comfort in hearing it for the first time in seven long, anxiety-filled days. It's a tangible if thin proof that Deeks is somewhat _okay_, that he's alive if not well. Callen looks solemn, more than Kensi has seen him in a long time – she thinks that the last time was when they put Hunter and Renko's coffins to the ground – and Sam's crossed arms seem to choke him a little bit. But it's her eyes that Eric searches before hitting the play button.

"Hey, been plenty busy here with that new job I told you about, and catching up with the guys. Just called to check on you and see if everything was okay. Call me back when you can, okay ? I've tons of stuff to tell you, starting with that girl…" They hear him laugh, though the sound is nothing like Deeks' genuine, ridiculous laugh. "I should be home all day tomorrow. See ya."

"Call him back, Eric," Callen says, at the same time as he turns to Kensi. "You okay, Kens ?"

She only offers him a nod – she can't do much else. Her stomach twists at the implication of Deeks' words; a girl, he said, but who could that be ? Was he referring to another body they'd soon find, or a freshly kidnapped woman ? Eric puts the call on speaker, and Deeks picks up his phone at the third ring, and once again Kensi's heart skips a bit. "Hey, Uncle Mark," he greets, his voice hoarse. "When I said I'd be there all day, I didn't mean for you to wake me up so early."

Callen frowns. "Hangover much, are we ? It's 10AM. Or is it that girl who kept you up all night ?"

They hear Deeks chuckle. "Nope, no girl. Haven't seen her in a while, in fact. I've just been working a lot. Anyway, how are things back home ?"

Callen's eyes meet Kensi's, bluer than ever, a comforting gleam in them, and he nods briefly, sighing deeply before answering, a sly smile spreading on his lips. "Good. Everyone's been missing you, especially that girl who calls you her lucky charm."

She can see his smile in her head, but the vision is altered and dismissed as soon as she hears the grim in his tone. "Ah, Fern ? You bet she's missing me. But, hey, she's gonna have to do without me because life's pretty busy here. Not sure I'm ever going home."

"What's that new job about ?" Callen asks, this time looking away from Kensi. He doesn't need to look at her to imagine the face she's making at the moment upon hearing the thing she dreaded the most. He can't deal with it right now, though.

"Oh, you know, this and that. Kind of a surveillance job, but for rich clients. Pays a lot. Boss said I could make a hell lot more in no time… That I had skills. But well, anyway, today I'm off." Deeks goes silent and Callen waits, and Kensi suddenly realizes that she's been holding her breath, her hands clutching at the console, knuckles white from her grip. She wants to grab the damn phone and tell him that she's coming, Hetty be damned, but Deeks beats her to it. "I might call this girl…"

"What's so special about her ? You don't _call_ girls."

"I might make an exception for this one. I mean, my friends are enamored with her, and she's hot. I suppose I can make an effort and take her out, huh ? Besides, at least _she_ has some brain – Jackie and Av are fun, but God, their conversation is very limited." Kensi's grateful for everyone looking anywhere but at her, because the blush on her cheeks cannot be missed; it's stupid, really, because Deeks is only talking like Matthew would, and besides, it's not like Deeks has never complimented her or gushed on her looks before. But it just holds another whole new meaning when he says that over the phone to their team leader and in front of the entire team, for some reason.

It's Matthew talking about Bianca, she tries to reason. It's a sick, twisted guy talking about some hot girl. _Yeah, right_.

"So, yeah, that was nice catching up with you, Uncle Mark," Deeks continues. "Hoping to see you soon. But now, I got a call to make, if you don't mind."

Callen meets her eyes, and for a moment, Kensi doesn't know if he's examining her, thinking this over, or simply trying to come up with something to tell Deeks. They all know that these checks-in are not enough, that a couple minutes on the phone is not the best way to plan an operation or share intel; but it doesn't mean that Callen is comfortable with the idea of sending Kensi out there whom he has seen at her lowest ever since Hetty pulled her out of this. Even for a few hours or a night, he's not so willing or ready to take the risk.

Nothing pretty can come out of this, Callen _knows_ it by experience. He's spent more time being someone else than himself, and somewhere along the way, even he can't always tell the difference between the man and the alias, and Kensi… There _is_ a reason why she's _still_ a junior agent. She's never done this – deep cover, like Deeks told her about, without back-up, without a tiny second to go back to being yourself – and God help him, if he could, Callen would keep her away from all of this forever.

Either way, it _will_ end badly.

For Deeks, for her, for their team. The longer Kensi stays away from her partner, the more desperate she becomes, the more dangerous, too; but allowing her to spend some time with Deeks is even more cruel.

He still thinks of the lies and lives he's lived, sometimes. Not often, but it happens. Aliases who should have been shed after, strangers and suspects and witnesses he allowed himself to grow closer to when he shouldn't have; maybe if someone has talked to him, things would have been different.

_Would you have listened ? No_. That much Callen knows. Maybe he should talk with Kensi first, warn her – or maybe he could trust her.

"Have fun, Matt," he finally says after a moment. "But remember, if you want to elope, I'll know it."

Deeks laughs; Callen does, too. In the span of a few seconds, the OSP center is filled with laughter – Nell's girlish laugh, Eric's own amusement over her laugh, Sam's laugh that sounds like he doesn't want to but can't help it.

Kensi just nods her head, never breaking the eye contact with Callen.

Two minutes later, Bianca's cell phone rings, announcing a new incoming text message.

* * *

She meets him at his place, early in the evening – Matthew Sturridge is already making a big effort by taking a girl out and not directly to his bed, no one could expect him to actually pick up his date. His text didn't say anything about going out, anyway; whatever the reason behind his need to see her, Kensi is pretty sure that Deeks is not going to take the risk to talk to her outside the safety of his apartment where he knows that no one can actually hear them.

Her legs are shaky as she climbs the stairs leading to his door, and she could be annoyed at herself if she wasn't so relieved to finally see him again. Besides, it's not like she can find it in her to, when she hasn't been able to stop thinking about this all day.

She hasn't seen him since the night on the beach and that morning when she left before he could wake up and say goodbye.

She hasn't seen him since she kissed him, and he kissed her back.

There's apprehension, sure; but deep down, Kensi's mind is perfectly made up about that. The tension coiling in the pit of her belly isn't one of dread or embarrassment, hell no. As she raises her hand to knock, Kensi almost forgets, for a second, about everything, the job, the op, the team.

She's barely knocked on his door when he opens it and lets her in, and the door is just merely closed behind her when he pushes her against it, her back hitting the wooden surface softly at the same time as she clenches her hands around the fabric of his shirt, pulling him to her.

She doesn't take time to take him in, to lose herself in those blue eyes she's missed so much – they'll have plenty of time for that later. His lips are crashing against hers before he can even try to resist.

He knows it's a mistake.

She doesn't give a damn.


	24. Chapter 24

**Warning: though the story rating remains T, there are suggestions of violent situations - hell, even I found I was evil to leave you like that at the end... That said, well, enjoy. ;)**

* * *

He's better than this.

At least, he _should_ be; Deeks knows better than to just give in to his desires or feelings like that, but years of experience simply shatter when he sees her, breathes her in and pushes her against that door, his lips meeting hers. He knows it's a mistake, knows he'll most likely regret it comes morning when she's gone and he's left alone to think of what he's done, what he's been too weak to prevent from happening. And yet, he _can't_ help himself.

For the past week, he's spent too much time thinking of her to pretend tonight could have gone differently, however strong his resolve could have ever been. It's been hell to have to stay away from her and focus on this operation that makes him sicker every day, utter hell to do what he had to do without someone to come home to and talk to, someone to tell him that he did what he had to for the sake of the assignment and all the lives he could save by taking down the Marquezs business.

_There are days you can't go through without knowing there's someone waiting at home for you._

Oh, shut up.

He has the hem of her shirt bunched in his hands before he knows it, the feel of her soft, warm skin intoxicating under his palms and that's when he knows he _has_ to stop; when the pressure of her lips against his own, the brush of her tongue and the gentle insistence of her fingers digging into his hips lull him into craving for more and forgetting for a moment how wrong it's supposed to be. He does, though; Deeks pulls back, breathing hard before he leans his forehead to her shoulder. He just can't look her in the eye because he knows there's no way he can deny her if he does – those dark eyes have had a hold on him ever since he first met her.

And how is he _supposed_ to say no to her ? To those lust-filled eyes, those demanding exploring hands ? To those red kiss-swollen lips seeking more, always more ?

Saying no to her when he's never imagined this could ever really happen, that the idea of she and he could ever become a possibility, a reality… When he's never allowed himself to do more than dream about it, about her… And when she's finally, really here, _wanting_ this as much as he does – that has to be the hardest thing he's ever had to do.

"Bad – bad idea ?" she asks, panting softly in his ear, the quickened rise and fall of her chest pressing against his, painfully so.

"Terrible," he replies as quietly. She chuckles. His brows furrows, and he leans back, finally meeting her gaze. There _is_ lust sparking in her deep brown eyes, but there's also something _else_, something he can't quite place or name. _Won't_. "What's so funny ?"

"The reversal of the roles, that's all," she replies, teasing him – _why_ is she teasing him ? She lifts her hands to the collar of his shirt, tenderly smoothing the fabric. "I didn't think you'd be the one freaking out. That's my job. You're supposed to be like, "let's go for it", and I'm supposed to say it's a bad idea and run." He hears it in her voice, how she's trying to sound light and playful but they both know that she's right, that the image she's depicting is exactly what _should_ have happened. So why is he the one looking down, unable to hold her gaze any longer, those deep brown eyes that just make him want to kiss her again until he can't remember his own name, fake or real ?

She doesn't know what deep cover means, though. She doesn't know that the feelings and emotions and the adrenaline rush pulsing through her veins right now are mainly due to the context; that they'll likely disappear once the fear for his life will. But he can't tell her that. He just _can't_. He's supposed to be better than this – to know better than this – but _no_; that was _before_, before he knew what it felt like to have someone, someone you couldn't leave behind or forget as you shed an alias.

It was so much easier when it was just all about him, when there was no one caring.

The mistakes that Max Gentry did, no one was there to place the guilt upon Marty Deeks but himself. The innocent lives that Dale John Sully helped taking away were forgotten to Lieutenant Scarli's betrayal and Jess Traynor's unfortunate end. No one questioned the bed he woke in, the woman he kissed in the light of dawn before the sun fully rose, as long as the job was done. No one's living with the shame of having desired their best friend's wife, _maybe_ loved, even. No one's living with the guilt of letting Jess Traynor cry on his shoulder one night, one fateful night that led to photos of him leaving her apartment and her car being blown up. No one but him.

And yet he's moved on. That's what he does; he puts these memories and emotions and people in a box and goes on, every single damn time. He's been Max Gentry, he's been Dale John Sully, or Jason Wyler or Tim or any of those guys; now, they lay in boxes to rest. It doesn't mean that what he's done doesn't haunt him anymore, but now he's no longer alone when the nightmares or ghosts hit with full force.

Now he has a team full of friends who share the same nightmares, who are visited by the same ghosts. People who care. People who are there.

People who are not there _now_.

But Kensi is.

And Deeks thinks he's earned the right to be selfish for a night, for a few blissful hours when he can forget about Matthew Sturridge for a little while and be Marty Deeks again. With someone who understands. With someone who isn't his best friend's wife and whom he should have never laid his eyes upon, nor someone he allowed himself to get close to in spite of all the warning bells ringing in his head.

(They're screaming for Kensi, too. Tonight, he shakes them off. For now.)

"Deeks ? You still here with me ?" He feels her hand on his cheek, her palm soft and gentle as she tilts his head up to her, forcing him to look her in the eye. "I thought you'd be happy to see me," she goes on, her tone light, a playful grin tugging at her lips.

"'Course I am," he replies in a whisper, finding nothing in her eyes but care and concern – for him, in spite of everything he's done, everything he has to do. He forces a smile, trying to reassure her.

Hers is genuine, and so is the little spark in her eyes as she replies smoothly, "Show me, then." Kensi leans in ever slowly when really, there's barely an inch between them; she sees his eyes blink with hesitation, those beautiful eyes she's never seen this clouded. "Show me…" she repeats in a breath that mingles with his as her lips hover over his. "Show me. Deeks…"

She can't really help the little gasp of surprise that escapes her lips as his arms snake fully around her, wrapping her in a tight hug; his hold almost knocks the air out of her lungs for a second, and then Deeks is burying his face in her neck, gently nuzzling in her hair. It's not what she expected and they both know it – and yet she doesn't have to think twice when her arms reach to him, her hands fisting the fabric of his shirt at his back as she presses against him, the wooden door rough at her back in stark contrast to the warmth of his body. "Did something –" she starts, not really knowing how to ask the question that has been wandering back and forth in her mind since they called him in the OSP center, "Are you okay ?" she finally asks.

He doesn't reply; instead, his hold just tightens as he inhales deeply, his breath tickling the sensitive skin of her neck – and God, how it sends shivers down her body on its wake. His silence scares her because Deeks is just not that guy, she's the one closing down and keeping secrets, never letting anyone in and Kensi hates that feeling. She's always felt like it was okay for her to do it because Deeks _always_ came back to her no matter what, always pushed and probed and insisted on letting her know that he was there, anytime, anywhere; but experiencing what he must go through on a daily basis with her is the _worst_ feeling ever. She doesn't even try to hide how her voice wavers when she speaks. "Deeks, _please_, say something."

"Madison," he finally says after another long moment of silence, his words almost lost in her hair. Kensi nods against his shoulder, the tension in his muscles and the painful way his hands squeeze her back just adding to her confusion. He didn't do anything to that woman and she knows it because they spent the day of her death together; they were having dinner at the Marquezs when she was killed. "They didn't kill her."

"What are you talking about ? She was on the missing person list. If they didn't, who did ?" She loosens her hold on him, her hands finding his shoulders as she slowly pushes him back, her fingers gripping at his shirt to hold him close at the same time. "Who killed her ? What happened ?"

"_They_ did," he says, shaking his head as he closes his eyes that nearly roll under his eyelids as he fights against the flash of images invading his mind. He exhales heavily and Kensi cups his face with both her hands, forcing him to be still, gentle fingertips touching his eyelids so he opens them again. "The others. The women," he specifies, "They make them... It's not just about sex, Kens. It's not just about forced prostitution. It's… _sick_."

She doesn't want to hear him say it.

He says it anyway, though. "That's why we found Sophia's hair on Lola Smith's shirt. That's why we can't find any DNA on them, belonging to anyone working for Marquez, or anything at all. Sophia's hair was a mistake… They make them do it, Kensi." His hands leave her waist and he lifts one to her face, brushing with his thumb a lone tear falling down her eye. "We can charge them with abduction and procuring and drug selling, but not with murder."

She hears what he doesn't say loud and clear.

She wants to think that it's just a detail, that the hand giving the fatal blow doesn't really matter given the circumstances, but she can't; she knows she can't think like that, because these women will _never_ get to see it this way.

Being forced to do it doesn't change the fact that Sophia Alvarez, a seventeen year-old girl, probably had to kill another girl.

In comparison, not being able to charge the Marquezs for murder is _nothing_.

"Kens ?" His voice is soft, low, all but a whisper of her nickname. "Now you gotta say something, too."

All she wants to do is leave this apartment and run away, and bring Deeks with her. She can't leave him alone, and she knows he can't stay here and do this – she can't imagine him keeping cover and witnessing all these horrible things and not moving a finger. She isn't ready for this, God, she's not. That's what Deeks does, though – what he's been doing for years – and the very thought sends a chill running down her spine.

He tucks her hair behind her ears, his thumb gently tracing her cheekbones. "Kensi," he calls once more, "Kensi, talk to me."

"Did they – did you…" she struggles, trying hard to focus on the feel of his hands and not the furious pounding in her ribcage. "Is this what you've been doing this past week ? That new job… Did you get your way in ? About the women ?"

He shakes his head. "No. But Marquez… he said something about…" Deeks stares at her as if he was just seeing her for the first time. "Let's just sit down, okay ?" he says, gently grabbing her by the elbow and leading her to the couch, sitting her down. Kensi follows him but Deeks recognizes the state of shock she's in for he's experienced similar ones in the past, before he knew what this life was like. "Kensi ? I didn't do anything, I swear."

"I know," she says immediately, nodding her head. "I know. I didn't mean to… I know, Deeks, okay ? I know that even _if_ you had to, it would be…" She places a hand on top of his, lacing their fingers together; Deeks squeezes back. "What did he say ?" she asks after a moment, her voice serious and void of any wavering this time. "What were his exact words ?"

Deeks clears his throat, getting the hint – Kensi needed a moment and now that she had it, she's back on full agent mode. "I gave him a very good impression. My job so far was to collect payment, basically. Marquez has been very happy with me, so much that he gave me all those days off, telling me to go have fun with you." Kensi frowns at that, and he gives her hand a reassuring squeeze. "That's part of the perfect family thing. If you look like a good guy, it gets even harder to catch you, you know ? So for a guy like Marquez, having a wife and a couple kids is the perfect cover. Anyway, they went to see Alvaro in prison this week, and apparently he's all excited to know I'm back. And that's when Marquez told me he had another job for me, if I was up for it."

Deeks pauses, staring at her again. Slowly, he lifts his hands to her shoulders and pauses there, his fingers closing around the material of her jacket; he tilts his head to her, looking at her from under his lashes as she nods her assent, and he pushes the sleeves down her arms. "We don't have to do this now, Kens. It's a lot to take in. I have a few days off again, we could go somewhere and meet with the guys and I could tell them myself, okay ?"

She doesn't tell him that she wants this to be over with so they can focus on the two of them and talk about what happened, and what she wants to happen again. Or not talk at all and just spend the night with him without thinking – or at least trying not to – of any of this. "Tell me what he said, Deeks. I can take it."

* * *

"_Matthew, my boy. There's something I want to ask you, and I could perfectly understand if you feel like this is too much," Sebastian starts as they sit at a table at the club during daytime._

"_Ask away, sir."_

"_I told you to call me Sebastian," Marquez laughs, patting him on the shoulder. "Matt, you know that we're going him for Christmas, don't you ? We should be gone for a week, maybe two, and Esteban and my brother and I thought that we needed someone we trust to run the business."_

_He doesn't flinch nor ask why they'd think of him, that's not what Matthew Sturridge does. Instead, he nods his head and waits for Marquez to continue. Marquez never mentions the women and girls. He just tells him that he's been of great value in the past and showed the same talent all over again and that they couldn't think of a better person for the job, that someone needs to run the club in their absence._

_He talks freely about the drugs and death threats placed upon those who do not pay in time, but no girls. Not until he says, "You know, Matt, you're a smart man, just like us. You know better than to get involved. That's a job for men like your friend Avery."_

_He smirks. Arrogance will be the death of Matthew Sturridge one day; luckily, it will be Sebastian Marquez's, too._

* * *

"And then he basically told me without telling me," Deeks goes on. "He didn't mention the girls, he's _very_ careful with words, but I drew the conclusion because I knew what to look for. He said that the solution to any problem was to make someone else solve it for you. That this way, you could get all the benefits without suffering from any disadvantage. He said..." He sighs, visibly disgusted. "He said that men like _us_ are meant to _make_ others do what we're above doing."

Kensi shifts, sitting closer to him as she lifts a hand to his chest, laying a gentle palm over his heart. "You're _nothing_ like him." Deeks gives her a small smile and _that's_ it; she brings her other hand to his jaw and softly, slowly, she leans in until their mouths are just an inch apart, much like moments before at the door. "You hear me ?" she says again, "You're nothing like him or them because you are going to put an end to this, okay ? And I'm gonna help you as much as I can. We are all with you."

And then she kisses him.

This time, he doesn't try to stop her.

* * *

None of them is really ready to go to bed and surrender to sleep, not after this. Deeks knows he's had nightmares since he found out – _guessed_ what was happening with the women. He knows that making them kill each other instead of shooting a bullet to their skull is another way to make sure they submit and give up any fight; after all, the lucky ones are not those who are still alive in this case. He can't imagine any of those women, mothers, sisters, wives or high school girls try to escape after that, after being forced to be a part of that vicious, disgusting circle.

Something bothers him, though.

The injuries that Madison Rose suffered go beyond smashing someone's head against a wall or breaking their neck. Lola Smith was strangled to death but considering the amount of drugs in her system, tiny feminine hands could have done it without too much struggle.

(He fights the nausea forming in his throat at the very idea.)

But Madison ? She looked like she'd been on a fight, Eric and Nell had let him know through their cryptic messages, which meant that another woman had to be in a very similar state. Kensi connects the dots at the same time because she stirs beside him, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"It's not just about sex," she repeats his words from earlier. "They make them fight to death."


	25. Chapter 25

Marty Deeks has learned through the years that there's no hierarchy in evil and gruesome.

But _this_ ? This is just plain _sick_.

"But why would they do that ?" Kensi goes on as she stands, pacing in his living-room. "Why ?"

The answer to that question sickens him even more. "Because they know they can get new girls just as easily, Kens," he replies, his tone calm and collected – he is everything but on the inside. "So far we have a list of fifty-five missing women through the past year and twenty-two of them were found dead. That leaves thirty-three still held captive, most likely in the hands of Marquez. None of the bodies showed signs of the violence Madison Rose's got beaten with, though, so this must be something new – something they're experimenting."

"Why would someone want to watch people fight to death ?" she asks in a low voice, her fingers rubbing at her temples as she closes her eyes. "It makes no sense. They had to make plenty of money already with… Why did they start with this ?"

He watches her, lost and confused as to what to say or do to calm her down. He knows that Kensi has been doing this job for a long time, too, but clearly even Kensi badass Blye has limits – God knows that he was much more of a wreck the first few years. But as horrible as it sounds, he still has more experience than her when it comes to this and he's _slightly_ better at handling it. "Money, Kens. _More_ money. It's all about that. And there's plenty of sick, deranged people out there who have plenty of money and think it allows them to do whatever they want and get away with it. And there are people like Sebastian Marquez who helps them get their fix. You know how it is, the richest, the scariest the mental issues are."

"And there's nothing we can do about it." Her tone is flat, her gaze almost hollow as she meets his eyes. He extends his hand to her and she takes it, sitting again next to him, but Deeks wraps his arm fully around her, holding her close. He rubs his hand over her back gently, not saying a word.

She just needs a moment.

She thought that things couldn't get worse, that there was no scarier nightmare than those women being drugged and abused and beaten and killed…dear Lord, how _wrong_ she'd been. Now that they know what they're making them do, she can't help wishing they were all dead because death _has_ to be better than having to kill to survive. She sees beautiful, young, happy Sophia Alvarez in her head, her hands locked around Lola Smith's throat and then all she can see is those tiny fists punching and beating until the body goes limp and falls to the floor.

And then she sees all of their faces and finally understands what Deeks has been living with for all these past months – guilt, shame, remorse, disgust – for not doing anything sooner, for belonging to the same human race that brought to the world people who can live from hurting the others, people who love it, are thrilled by it.

She turns to him, her bottom lip caught in between her teeth in a vain attempt to fight off the angry tears burning her eyes; it's pure rage that's making them well. "Have you – have you ever dealt with something like that ?"

* * *

"_Come on, girls. Please. If you don't talk to me, I can't help you." He calls after them, but no one turns around; one by one they leave the alley where it happened, already moving on to another client. "Please. Don't you want the one who did this to pay for his crime ?"_

_That works. One girl – he says girl because she can't be older than eighteen, and God how that sickens him – stops and stands still for a moment. The others look at her with disdain, some shaking their heads in disapproval, but in the end the girl turns around and walks to him; she has long wavy red hair and gorgeous hazel eyes in spite of the dark circles under them that make-up barely conceal, her little camisole half-open and a skirt that hardly reaches the top of her thighs, scary high heels that she struggles to walk on, her hips swaying much more than needed with every step. _

"_Thank you," he says as she reaches him. _

_She dismisses him with a wave of her hand. "You're new, aren't you ?" she asks him as her eyes roam over his uniform. "I've never seen you before. And I know lots of cops, trust me."_

"_How old are you ?"_

_She laughs bitterly. No make-up or clothes or attitude can make him believe that this girl isn't a child. "How is that relevant to the case, Officer Deeks ?" she replies as she leans in to read his name. "Why do you care so much about what happened to Laura ?"_

"_Because it's my job," he says simply. "It's my job to care."_

"_It's your little friends' job, too, and I don't see any of them hanging around so much now." She laughs again, shrugging her shoulders. "You have no clue how things are going on here, do you ? No one cares, Officer Deeks. Just another whore who got what she deserved. One less worthless shit walking the street. Talking to you won't change that."_

_He reaches for her and tries to lay a hand on her forearm, but the girl flinches and takes a step back. "Sorry," he apologizes immediately. "Look, maybe you're right, maybe no one cares. My partner did give up, like everyone else. But I'm not gonna do that. If you know anything, you have to tell me."_

"_No, you're gonna listen to me." The girl stands taller, almost reaching his full height with her heels. "You can't just barge in here like a freaking hero who wants to save lost girls and damsels in distress. You can't give us hope like that and then leave. You can't do that. You can't tell me you're gonna make that guy pay, because you won't. Just you wait and see, Officer Deeks. Some things are bigger than you and there's nothing you can do about that."_

_He's stunned. He knows she's right – who is he kidding, pretending that the police is really interested in finding who murdered a prostitute ? He may not have worn the uniform for long, but he knows damn well that between a blonde-haired, blue-eyed little girl missing in Beverly Hills and a girl living in the street, the choice is quickly made. There's no time nor energy or money to be spent on them._

_Doesn't mean he can't try and fight against that._

_He didn't become a cop to protect and serve only those who matter to the good, decent people of the city of angels._

_(It tugs at his heart more than it should, to think that most people must think of him this way – just another useless, worthless kid from Reseda who's achieved nothing but trying to prove he could be someone and failing so far.)_

"_Let me get you some coffee, okay ?" he offers. "And then you can tell me what you know. Or not. Whatever you want. I can give you a number and an address, some shelter where you can go…"_

_He can't let a girl sell her body like that. It's the reason why he wanted to be a lawyer, to defend those that no one ever defended; the same reason why he became a cop, to protect those that no one ever protected. He just can't let a girl who has to still be a teen do that._

_He sees her eyes flicker in surprise, but it only lasts a second before they harden and she laughs again. "Oh, sweetheart," she says, a gorgeous, fake smile on her lips. "You think I'm a princess and you're the noble knight who's gonna sweep me off my feet ? Save me ?" She lifts her hands to his chest, patting him. "You want me to cry on your shoulder while I'm telling you my story ? You want to hear what made poor little me pop open a button or two and unzip the skirt ? Okay. My mommy died of cancer, and my daddy, well, he's never been around. So I went to one of your precious little havens. You know what happened ?" He doesn't want to hear her say it. He knows. "The kind man who was running the shelter ? Wasn't so kind, in reality. He put his hand on my mouth and took me against that filthy bathroom wall every fucking night for months before I ran. And the nice cop that I saw at the precinct, you know what he said ? That I was a fucking liar and a tease. So tell me, Officer Deeks, what's the worst ?"_

_He doesn't answer. He has no answer for that._

"_That's what I thought," the girl finally says, stepping back. She smiles at him again, tracing his chest with a single fingertip. "It's fifty bucks if you want to cry on my shoulder now, Charming. Otherwise, you should just go before the girls start hating me for talking to you."_

_He drives to the precinct, where his partner tells him to let it go. He sees some shaking their heads and looking down – he knows that he can't be the only one caring, the only one who wants to do something. But no one moves a finger. The case is closed for no further evidence, the body buried in some mass grave. No family to contact, no one at the funeral._

_No one but the red-head. This time, she's wearing a black dress, no heels and no make-up. Her wrists are swollen, red with angry finger marks. "What happened to you ?" he asks as he walks to her and stands by her side._

"_Oh, hello there, Charming." She doesn't smile today; there's no spark to her voice either. She rubs her wrists softly, slightly wincing. "Nothing. They're just not all as sweet as you seem to be. What are you doing here ?"_

_He shrugs. "Just thought that no one should go like this. Alone."_

_She looks at him intently, biting on her bottom lip. "You really are something now, aren't you ? But you should go see a shrink, you know, for all those saving issues." She drops her gaze, focusing her attention on her folded hands, and then she turns to leave._

_He watches her, but this time he decides he's not going to let her walk away until she's heard him out. He retrieves his wallet from his pocket and after picking a few bills, he calls after her. "Fifty bucks, right ?" he says as she looks at him with round eyes. "How long do I get you to listen to me for fifty bucks ?"_

_She sighs heavily, rolling her eyes, and then she walks to a bench and sits on it, patting the spot next to her. "Come on now. Tell me your sad little story and we'll talk about money later."_

_He sits next to her, his elbows resting on his knees as he looks at her sideways. "What's your name ?" he asks._

"_Why do you want to know some whore's name ?"_

"_Because you're a person. What you do doesn't define who you are."_

_Her lips twitch a bit at that. Not a full smile, but a light tug upward. "Can I ask you something ?" He gives her a nod. "Being a cop, doesn't that define who you are ?" He frowns, and this time she looks away. "Then what I do does define who I am. You can't change the rules, Officer Deeks. Good or bad, we can't escape who we are."_

"_I've made some mistakes in the past, too," he offers, choosing to stare right in front of him._

"_Oh, so is this the moment when you start telling me about your sad life and how you got to become a better person with hard work and the magical power of love, huh ?"_

_He chuckles. "Come on. I just want to know your name."_

_She toys with her fingers, visibly less at ease than she's trying to make herself out to be. She worries the plump flesh of her lip with her teeth for a moment, almost too long that Deeks thinks she's not gonna reply. But then, in a breath, she says, "Holly. Happy now ?"_

"_Very." He extends his hand as if to shake hers and she frowns, but he takes her hand in his anyway. "Nice to meet you, Holly. I'm Marty."_

"_I never said I wanted to know your name," she sighs, taking her hand back. "Can I go now ?"_

_He bites back the retort on the tip of his tongue – he can't use money as an argument to make her listen to him and stay if she doesn't want to. He won't make her feel like an object like everyone else does. But at the same time, he can't really let her walk out on him again. He doesn't say anything and the girl sinks back on the bench, wrapping her arms around her. He starts taking off his jacket, and she rolls her eyes._

"_Come on now, sweetheart. This is getting really sappy. We're not in Pretty Woman, you know."_

"_How old are you ?" he goes on, not commenting on her last reply._

"_Nineteen."_

"_How long have you been doing this ?"_

"_Are we playing Twenty Questions ? Because if we are, you're gonna need more than fifty bucks." She hums quietly, thinking. "Two, maybe three years. I don't really remember."_

"_He pinned you down," he says softly as his eyes roam on her bruised skin again._

"_That's not a question. And no, he didn't. Actually, he held my wrists above my head. Didn't touch me or anything, he just wanted to scare me, I think. To know he was in control. Probably can't make it work with a woman…" she notes, and Deeks almost smiles. Almost. "Fucking hurts, though. But he paid me double, so…" She shrugs._

"_How do you do that ?"_

"_Do what ?"_

"_Talk about it as if it didn't mean a thing to you that those men pay you to do whatever they want."_

_It doesn't break her shield. "I'm in control," she says defensively, anger flashing in her hazel eyes. "I only do what I want to do. And because I'm not a fucking princess doesn't mean that I'm a broken little girl you can save. I get paid to do what precious little princesses don't, so what ?" She gets up abruptly, putting distance between them. "That's my life, okay ? Why do you pretend to care ? You're one of them."_

_That stuns him to silence._

"_You might think you're a hero, but you're just like them. You close your eyes on what's really going on. Just you wait until you find out that your chief of police or mayor or head surgeon or local hero or God only knows who else is doing the deed with one of us and you'll just look away when you find the next body."_

_His eyebrows rise in surprise. "What do you mean ?"_

_She lets out an exasperated sigh as she extends her hand to him, palm open. "Can I have my money now ?"_

_He rubs a hand over his jaw, tired all of a sudden. There's no reasoning the girl, at least not today; so he hands her a few bills, more than planned._

"_I don't need your charity, Charming."_

_And then, unexpectedly, she kisses him on the cheek._

_And then she's gone._

_-:- _

_When Lieutenant Roger Bates summons him to his office a couple months later and tells him that he's quite impressed with him in spite of his insufferable personality, it doesn't make him proud or anything._

_And when he offers him a new position in a new task force, he takes it without hesitating._

_Anything is better than sitting at a desk and filling paperwork day after day with people who think it's okay to just stand by and watch as the world falls apart. No one likes him, anyway. And he has no one either._

_Undercover, he finally feels like he's doing something._

* * *

Her gentle hand on his knee makes him snap out of the intricacies and dark corners of his own mind. "Deeks ? You okay ?"

"Yeah, yeah, I was just thinking…" Kensi keeps her eyes trained on him and he sighs, looking down at his hands. She nudges his ankle with her foot as she settles back against him, softly brushing her fingers on his arm to encourage him. "I've been doing this job for…quite some time, now, you know. I've been working undercover for five years or so, I think. Before that, I was at the Robbery/Homicide Division for two years. I've seen – there are some images that will _never_ truly leave me."

For a moment Deeks is quiet, the admission more than he's ever shared with anyone since Ray and young boys' living nightmares whispered within the cover of darkness and castles built with sheets. No one has ever stuck long enough since Ray – or maybe Deeks is the one who hasn't stuck long enough with anyone to build the kind of trust he has with Kensi. But at the same time, the things he's seen, the things he's done… That still might be _too much_. There are things he just can't imagine telling _her_.

How covering his ears with his hands was never enough to keep him from hearing his mom cry or scream, begging for help that never came. How he had shaken so violently when he shot his father that he'd fired twice, one of the bullets grazing his mother as the other sank in his father's forearm. How the tears had flowed against his best attempt not to cry when the police had finally come, scared that they'd send him to prison for what he did and that his mom would be left all alone.

He can't tell her that. Just like he can't tell her what it feels like to stand by and watch as someone gets killed in front of you because your alias is a scumbag who feels no remorse and you can't break cover. He can't let her comfort him by saying that she's lost innocent lives, too; or that it was in the pursuit of the greater good. He _can't_.

Yet she insists – that's who Kensi is. Determined. Or stubborn. She'd probably scowl and sigh and leave if he did that to her like she's already done so many times, but she won't let him close down on her. _Typical_. What's not so typical, though, is the way she leans in closer and lays her head on his shoulder, her hand searching for his as she silently laces their fingers together. There have been times when a long day and a difficult case saw them sparring for hours to relieve the tension, or nights spent on her couch watching cheesy movies with take-outs and beers all over her coffee table. Sometimes they talk, sometimes Kensi shares something without realizing it, one little slip about a dinner with her mom or a memory with her father, sometimes it's Deeks; and sometimes, they don't say anything at all and just enjoy each other's company.

And sometimes a hand brushes some curls away from forehead and eyes or fingers touch as they dig in the chips bowl, but nothing like _this_, nothing like the tenderness of her gesture, her proximity, the way she's casually and yet so intimately pressed to him, her fingers squeezing his so tightly he's not sure she's ever planning to let go.

"Was – was it anything like Lazik and Ortega ?" she asks after another moment, unable to repress the shudder that shakes her body at the thought. They may have not been friends back then, merely coworkers for a couple cases, but almost losing him to this assignment isn't a feeling that Kensi is ever going to get used to or get over.

The lump in his throat grows tighter as she reminds him of the case that nearly retired him for good and killed Jess Traynor, of all the innocent blood shed, the innocent lives wasted and sacrificed. All the girls he couldn't save and the one woman for whom it mattered so much and who died without seeing Frank Scarli go down for his betrayal, and Lazik sent to the grave. "Oh, it isn't the worst I've seen," he says in a quiet whisper, softly tracing his thumb over the back of her hand. "I mean, clearly it's horrible and sick, but…" He sighs heavily, briefly closing his eyes as he rests his head against the back of the couch, slightly tilting his head to tuck hers under his chin. "At least in that case there's something we can do. It's a vicious circle and every time one ring goes down, another opens somewhere else with some other monster, but… What's killing me is those who get away with what they do because of politics and money and all that shit."

Kensi turns fully against him, their hands still entwined as she drapes her free arm across his chest, snuggling in deeper into his side. She hates what this case is making to Deeks, to _her Deeks_, the smiling, charming, goofy and fun Deeks who is supposed to be there to make her see the bright side of everything – _she_ is no good at that. She's wary and defensive and downright pessimistic, Deeks is the light, cheery and playful one; and yet tonight he's the one _needing_ her. She presses a gentle kiss to the skin his open collar exposes, lingering there just a minute before she speaks again. "There's always gonna be people we can't save, Deeks, and criminals we can't put behind bars. But we can't focus on that. We shouldn't. We should focus on those we helped, those we keep helping. Think of all these people you've helped."

* * *

"_So you're not into chicks, are you ?"_

_He spits his coffee, the hot beverage spilling on his shirt and the table. "What the hell, Holly ?"_

_She shrugs nonchalantly, warming her hands around her own cup. "Well, do you want to have sex with me ?" He stares at her with wide eyes. "See, that's what I meant. You're the only man who doesn't want to, so I was just wondering…"_

"_Because I don't want to sleep with you doesn't mean I'm gay."_

"_Why don't you, then ?" she asks, clearly confused. She still doesn't understand why he does any of this – buying her a coffee, giving her a few bills to spend a night or two at the hotel instead of the cold streets or giving her the change for the laundromat – or what he could want from her, since sex seems out of the question. "Because I'm a whore or because I'm not your type ?"_

_He sighs as he rubs a napkin over his ruined shirt. "Stop saying that." He'd like nothing more than a subject change, but he can feel her staring at him, so finally he lifts his head and meets her eyes, confused, wary hazel demanding an answer. "I just want to help you, Holly. I'm not asking for anything in return, so, no, no sex."_

_She snorts, rolling her eyes. "You're above me, right ? Charming is too good and pure for me ? Come on, there must be something that you want. No one just helps," she makes quotation marks with her fingers in the air, "people like that. So I'd rather know now."_

"_Must be my saving complex, remember ?" he smiles as he calls the waitress, asking for more napkins and another muffin. After the waitress brings them his order, he pushes the muffin toward Holly and leans his elbows on the table, looking at her intently. "Look, Holly… You're nineteen. You're just a girl. You shouldn't be living like that. And I know you don't want to talk about it, but…"_

_She interrupts him, standing abruptly, so much that she almost knocks her chair. "We've already discussed this, Charming. Let it go." And then her bottom lip quivers, the first hint of her resolution crumbling. "Please…"_

"_It only takes one girl, Holly," he gently insists, "One girl starts talking and then another, and then before you know it there are dozens of them. That's how you bring bad guys down… Please, sit down."_

_Reluctantly she does, crossing her arms over her chest. "So is that what this is all about ?" she asks, gesturing to the coffee and muffin. "You just want me to press charges ? It happened too long ago; no one believed me back then, why would it be any different now ?"_

"_You can help make this stop."_

"_It never stops." _

_She's not so wrong, but Deeks refuses to give up. "It will never stop completely. But it's a start."_

"_Like me ? You can't save everybody so you start with me, one day at a time ? Are you from the Justice League or what ?" She laughs at her own joke and then frowns. "What could you do, anyway ? You're a cop. You can't go arrest some guy for something he did years ago."_

"_No, I can't. But we can build a case, talk to other victims, see if we can find some witnesses. We could do something together, Holly."_

"_So what are you now, a lawyer, too ? Dial down the ego, sweetheart."_

_He smiles. "Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I've been a lawyer. Officially, I still am, so…"_

_Her eyes widen almost comically. "Who the hell are you ? What are you, some kind of law enforcement unicorn ?" She chews on her lip, narrowing her eyes at him. "And then you go tell me about your past mistakes. Come on, Charming. Lawyer, and now cop ? Sounds like Momma must be proud."_

_He's promised himself he would never let that affect him – his mother, his father, and Tom. So Deeks doesn't flinch nor snap; instead, his voice is soft, soothing as he continues. "I wanted to be a lawyer to protect people, and that's what I'm doing as a cop, too. So let me help you, Holly. You could start again. You're young, you could go back to school, make a nice life for yourself."_

_Her brow furrows, her gaze a little less hard than before. "Like you did ?" she asks in a small voice. "Is that the moment when you tell me that you know what it's like but that despite everything, you've made it ?"_

"_Would you at least consider it if I did ?"_

_She shakes her head. "No, no," she replies softly. "It just helps me understand why you're doing this. No one has ever done something like that for me. But it's pointless. I can't win against them. And neither can you." There's a sadness in her voice he's never heard._

"_Them ?"_

_She sounds tired as she speaks. "You know, those who can do whatever they want and get away with it."_

"_Like the man who killed your friend ?" She nods. "You know who did it, don't you ?"_

_She shakes her head as she bites on her lip. "No… But I know that he's the kind of man that even a unicorn can't do anything against." He reaches for her hand, laying his bigger one on top of hers. This time, she doesn't flinch under his touch; instead, she gives him a teary look. "I'm not lying. I never saw the guy. But I heard her talk about him, and others, too… These men that give extra bills if you let them get a bit rough. Laura said that it was okay to have a few bruises because most men don't care about what you look like, as long as they get off. And the extra money helped. But I've never done that," she adds quickly, shaking her head again. "This one time…" she starts, and Deeks knows she's referring to the day of the funeral, "I – I wasn't in control, and I got scared at first… But then I realized that the guy wasn't, you know, into me, just into scaring me. But now I'm careful. I don't do weird stuff."_

"_I believe you, Holly, I do. But you need to tell me more."_

"_What do you want to know ? I don't know anything. I've just heard girls talking about them, men who get too rough, men who like that, who pay for that. A lot. They warned me, told me not to accept that, but… There are some, you just can't imagine that. They look shy and embarrassed and next thing you know, they have you pinned against the wall and you can't move…"_

"_Why do you keep saying that there's nothing we can do about it ?"_

"_Because they have money. And power. And friends." She takes her hand back, folding her hands on her lap. "You don't know how many upstanding citizens I've seen coming to us… But who would believe me ? Us ? And then you find a body because they wanted to have fun and the girl said no and the police are gone as soon as they came because no one cares."_

_She finishes her coffee before grabbing his arm, turning it to see the time on his watch. "I gotta go now or the girls will steal my clients. Nice chatting with you, Charming."_

"_Holly…"_

"_Too bad you're so righteous, or we could have fun together. It actually would make me feel better than with all those fat, dirty weirdos…"_

"_Holly," he repeats, his tone firm. "You can't keep running. At some point you're gonna want more than this life. Let me help you."_

_She smirks. "Oh, I might be dead before that, don't worry."_

"_Holly…"_

"_You like my name," she grins. "You know I could make you moan it. Or whimper. Scream…"_

_And here she goes again. Like every other time. She goes back to pretending there is nothing wrong with her life when barely moments ago she was about to cry, when he had almost made her talk, so he gives in. Again. Today is just not the day when she confides in him. He smiles back, getting up. "Is that your real name ?"_

_She twirls a fiery curl around her finger. "They call me Scarlett. For the hair, obviously. But I can be whoever you want," she adds in a breath, "Holly. Your mommy. That girl you've always wanted but never had. Just name your price."_

"_I just want to help Holly."_

"_Wrong answer."_

* * *

"I just wish there was more I could do," he shrugs, biting on his lip. He stares at the ceiling, the feel of Kensi's fingers caressing his side not quite enough to make the guilt go away.

And then her hand is on his face, cupping his jaw as she's forcing him to look at her. "You're doing everything you can, _Marty_. And it's already more than most people do."

"I could have done more if I had gone undercover months ago," he insists, nothing Kensi could say ever enough to make him believe he's not to blame for all the other women who were abducted ever since. He refuses to let her eyes, those gorgeous brown eyes staring at him with such care he can barely hold it, or her voice, her gentle tone, or the feel of his first name escaping her lips comfort him for even just a moment, because once she's gone…

"Deeks…" She holds his face with both her hands, her thumbs stroking at the corners of his eyes. "Stop… Don't do that. Don't go there. _Please_. I need you to be okay. I – I need _you_. And this ? This isn't you."

"And who am I ?" he asks, genuinely wondering.

She smiles – a broad, genuine smile as she lets one of her hands thread in his hair. "That's easy. You're my partner. You're _my_ Deeks."


	26. Chapter 26

**Long, long time no see. I can't actually believe it's been a year since I first posted this story, and it's still not done. It's been a bumpy road, and believe me, I wish I could be quicker to write and update, but well. Life, school and exams have been keeping me busy but here it is. Hope you enjoy, and my special thanks to anyone still reading, reviewing, favoriting or following this story after all this time.**

* * *

"_Deeks…" She holds his face with both her hands, her thumbs stroking at the corners of his eyes. "Stop… Don't do that. Don't go there. Please. I need you to be okay. I – I need you. And this ? This isn't you."_

"_And who am I ?" he asks, genuinely wondering. _

_She smiles – a broad, genuine smile as she lets one of her hands thread in his hair. "That's easy. You're my partner. You're my Deeks."_

-:-

And being hers feels _oh_ so good, the spark in her eyes making her intentions oh so clear, even more so than Kensi balancing a leg over his as she straddles his lap.

It almost _kills_ him to stop her, but he does; gently, he catches her wrists, but not before her fingers have already curled in the fabric of his shirt, deftly teasing two buttons off their loop. Kensi doesn't let that stop her, though; instead, before he can even utter a word of protest – however weak said protest would have been – her lips cover his softly, one tiny, almost hesitant brush at first quickly turning into greedy, demanding kisses that Deeks can't bring himself to break from.

So much for resisting temptation.

Deeks has always been one to believe in yielding to it, anyway. But, not this time – _not with her_. He can't do that. Finding his voice is a struggle, and when he does, her name is nothing but a breathy whisper. "_Kensi_…" he says, his voice husky with desire as he pulls away from her lips, those red, plump lips that he just wants to kiss again and again. He brings one hand to her face, tenderly tucking a stray curl behind her ear. "Kens… You make it hard to be the good guy here."

She leans in and nuzzles softly against his neck, her lips brushing against the shell of his ear. "Then don't be," Kensi breathes, pressing a lingering kiss to his smooth jaw.

He releases her hands from his hold, lacing their fingers together, and he brings their linked hands to his lips, dropping a gentle kiss on the back of her palm. "God, Kensi… When this is all over, if you _still_ want this –"

"I will," she interrupts him, squeezing his fingers. "I will. I _do_." Kensi sighs quietly, her teeth gently worrying her bottom lip as her eyes meet his – his eyes have never seemed so blue before, confusion and hesitation and disbelief clear in them. It's like he doesn't believe it at all – not _her_, but the very _idea_ that come morning she could still want him, that it's not just all about this assignment and the ever constant risk of losing him but that she does want _him_, her partner, her best friend, and no one else. And, sure, it may have taken her a long time to see it – to admit it to herself, more than anything else – but right now, there's nothing Kensi is more certain about than this.

Callen was right: Deeks is in love with her.

But _she_ loves him too.

Kensi leans in, dropping a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth before pulling back, and Deeks lets go of her hands as he watches her stand up. "So let's just get this over with," she says, a fierce gleam in her eye as her hands settle on her hips. "This has been going on for too long. You've done this before, Deeks. _You_ shut them down once, you can do it again. For good."

He looks up at her, a bewildered look in his eyes as he takes her in – barely a moment ago she was kissing him, and now here she is, determined and strong-willed and ready to enter the arena. Because this is what it is; he's seen others trying to get into the Marquezs' circle, gain their trust, become a member of the family only to fail and ultimately, _die_. No one deceives, disappoints, betrays or lies to Alvaro Marquez and lives to tell the tale – no one.

The only reason why he's still alive is because he's done everything he was ever asked to.

_Everything_.

That was the only way to gain Alvaro's trust, and during the fourteen months Deeks had spent as Matthew Sturridge, that was exactly what he'd done; obeying and executing orders without asking questions, showing off his skills so Marquez would take interest in him when the time was right, and then… And then he'd gone from serving cocktails to selling drugs and then selling _girls_, charming, cocky smile always on. He'd been the good, obedient boy Marquez wanted, the son he never had; the sweet, nice guy he trusted his daughter's life with, the guy she'd been smitten with since day one. He'd been the guy that tipsy girls gushed over and followed easily in the backroom, and there, _anything_ could happen; if a private party was going on there, maybe they got to be entertainment, but sometimes…

Some of those girls he never saw _alive_ again.

Some of them he threw himself in the L.A. River.

So when he looks back on those months, taking down the human ring _isn't_ what comes first to his memory.

Kensi sits on the coffee table, facing him, and brings her hands to his knees that she gently squeezes. "Deeks ?" she asks softly, tilting her head to meet his eyes, "_You_ did it. Alone. You got them to trust you, and you took them down. You saved tons of lives. And I can only begin to imagine the things you had to do…" She pauses then, at a loss for words. What is she trying to tell him here, really; that whatever he did doesn't matter to her, or at all; that he did it all for the greater good and that it makes it okay ?

That's what they tell you during training, sentences repeated so many times over the years to so many new recruits that they sound hollow, no emotion behind the words that bring no comfort when an innocent life is taken, when blood spatters everywhere and no matter how long you scrub, you _never_ feel clean again.

_You do what you have to_.

A little pat on the shoulder. A grim smile. A loaded gun and a shiny new badge in hand.

Except Kensi's never gone through _this_. She's never been alone out there on her own, with no back-up, no team behind her and ready to help her in case things went downhill. She's never had to befriend someone only to betray them later, or leading them to a certain death. She's never had to pretend to be one of the most horrible human beings for longer than a day or two; she's never had to gain someone's trust by doing the most despicable things she can come up with. She's never had to hurt someone.

She's never _killed_ anyone – not like this.

Whether Deeks had to or not, she doesn't know. But if one thing is certain, it's that she sure can't tell him that it's _okay_ because, really, who is she to tell him that, when _she_ would never be able to forgive herself if she ever had to go _that_ far ?

She can barely forgive herself for so many other things already.

One thing remains as clear as day for Kensi, though; one thing that no story Deeks could ever tell her or nothing she could hear about him could ever change – she knows _who_ he is. She knows him. Kensi takes pride in thinking that she might be the one person who knows Marty Deeks the best, save for his childhood best friend maybe, and the man she knows, the man she works with every day, the man she spends so many nights curled up on her couch with watching movies and sharing dinner, the man she trust with her life is _not_ a bad person. And that's all she needs to know.

That's all she _needs_ him to believe because whether he likes it or not, she's in this with him and Kensi is not leaving him. She's not. "I'm here, okay ?" she continues, her voice barely above a whisper as she squeezes his knee tighter. "You're not alone this time. I'm here, and the guys are there for _us_, too. So just tell me what you need."

"I need _time_ that I don't have – time that _they_ don't have," Deeks replies grimly. He leans his elbows on his thighs, burying his face in his hands; Kensi has to touch her head to his to hear his next words. "It took me so long the first time… By the time Marquez got arrested and sent to prison, I had lost more girls than I'd saved."

It kills her, the way that Deeks always sees victory and achievement as a team effort when he personally takes the blame for any failure. It kills her, and more than that, it utterly breaks her heart to imagine that he's spent years carrying this weight alone; that no one at the LAPD ever thought about telling him that he did a good job, that not everything going wrong is _his_ fault. This pang at her heart, the painful swell as her furious heartbeat almost threatens to pierce her chest; her Deeks is a charming, kind, fun guy, and she doesn't know how to deal with a broken man.

If she did, she'd have more to come home to than silence and memories.

It's not that she _wouldn't_ do anything to bring him relief, because God, if she knew how to, she'd give her everything to make the pain and the guilt go away; but the truth is, Kensi doesn't know what to say here – _if_ there's anything to say. So Kensi goes with the one thing that comes to her mind, the only thing she can say right now because she feels utterly deprived of the ability to speak. It's a soft, low whisper, but with her lips so close to his ear, Deeks can't miss it.

"_Marty_…"

She feels his legs start trembling beneath her touch, the shaking the physical evidence of the turmoil going on inside his mind at the moment. "God, Marty," Kensi lets out in a breath, blinking her lashes a couple times to fight off the tears threatening to fall. She doesn't know if it's rage or heartache bringing them, but right now she doesn't care; all she cares about is the fact that her partner is falling apart in front of her and that she _must_ do something. _Anything_. Gently, she reaches for him, cupping his face again with both her hands, forcing him to look up at her. "Marty," she repeats, slowly stroking her thumbs in a soothing motion over his skin. "I'm here, okay ? You are _not_ alone. And I swear to you, _we_ will do everything we can to stop this. Just tell me how I can help you. Tell me what to do."

Kensi sees him gulp hard, his blue eyes filled with every emotion ranging from fear to despair, agony to anger, his pulse racing fast under her fingers as she strokes them down his neck. "I've been Matthew before," Deeks finally says after a moment that seemed to stretch on forever. "For fourteen months, Kens. Over a damn _year_. It took me months to get Marquez to trust me, months before I was asked to take care of the girls." He closes his eyes then, pressing them firmly shut as he inhales deeply. "And after _that_, it took me another three months to stop it. For _three_ months, I stood by and watched them…"

Deeks pauses, flicking his tongue over chapped lips; his throat is sore, every word burning him as he forces them out. It's been four years and it still kills him, everything he's done, everything he's let happen without moving a finger for some reason that seems so obscure to him in the aftermath, for a greater good that seems impossible to reach, so much that he wonders if it really matters whether he tries or not. "I – I saw what they did to them, I saw girls being molested and abused and… I knew it was happening and I did nothing."

She interrupts him then, tilting his chin up to force him to look at her. "That's not true," Kensi says, her voice firm, never faltering. "It's not, Marty. Some innocent lives were taken, _yes_, but you are _not_ to be blamed for it. You have to focus on the ones you did save."

"It was the LAPD that saved them," Deeks replies, shaking his head – he can't look her in the eye right now, he just can't. "I was gone long before the raid came in and arrested everyone. Those women…"

It's a struggle, possibly the hardest battle he's ever had to fight, all the memories he's tried to bury deep down all coming back to him now. But Kensi's gentle caress brings him the steadiness he desperately needs and lacks of himself, a solid reminder of the fact that despite what he can't help but think, he's not alone. "If one of them ever saw me again, they would just remember me as the guy who lured them into a trap, the guy who smiled at them and because of whom they went through hell. And I'm not gonna explain that I did what I thought to be the right thing. I can't do that. I – I just can't, Kens. I can't go tell them or their family that they've been sold and abused and raped because I needed more evidence to shut this down. Because _I_ wasn't good enough to save them in time."

She opens her mouth to speak but Deeks goes on, not giving her the opportunity to try and convince him that he's wrong – it's a lost battle, anyway. "I failed them, Kens. There's no one else to blame because there was no one else. LAPD thought I was the best for this job, that, I don't know, that maybe I was the only one who could sink as low, who could actually get in and be a part of this family, because… Because I'm not the poster boy for the Good and Honorable LAPD Officer."

Kensi's eyes widen at this, and she tilts her head to meet his eyes. "What do you mean ?" she asks him, completely taken aback by his words. Deeks might not be the most appreciated guy ever, but she doesn't see one reason why someone would have anything to say about him as a _cop_.

Deeks sighs heavily, the tremble in his body rocketing through hers. Slowly, he racks a hand through his hair, tugging at the messy strands. "I mean that I have a record, okay ? People look at me at the precinct, and all they see is the little boy who shot his father, that same boy who turned into a troublemaker. I'm _always_ gonna be that boy. I'm always gonna be the stupid kid who stole cars for fun and took ten years off his mother because he couldn't get his act together and make something out of himself. I'm always gonna be a disappointment for the entire precinct because I'm nothing like my step-father. They never saw me as one of them because they're all just waiting for history to repeat itself and prove they were right about me. That I'm just bad seed, like my father. Only bad seed could get into a human traffic ring and befriend people like that," he shrugs.

"Or someone who's doing everything he can to stop it," Kensi offers gently, trying to convey everything she feels with the softness of her tone and the steady caress of her fingers. "I mean it. I – I can't promise you we'll save them all, I can't promise that and God, I wish I could… But I can promise you I'm going to be with you every step of the way."

His words from more than a year ago startle him, and Deeks' eyes shoot up, meeting Kensi's; there's an answer to his every doubt and fear in them, a certainty he's never seen before. Slowly, he nods, and Kensi's lips twitch in a small smile. "Now tell me how you did it. Tell me everything you know about them. And from there, we'll have a place to start. They already trust _Matthew_," she continues, insisting on using his alias' name and not his, "You don't have to start back from the beginning. They know Matthew, they welcomed him with open arms. You said that Marquez was giving you new responsibilities, now it's up to _us_ to play the right cards to get this done and over with soon. Christmas could be the perfect opportunity."

Kensi stops before delivering her last thought: _maybe this could be over for Christmas_.

Deeks clears his throat, briefly touching the back of his palm to his eyes. "You – you're right," he says, shaking his head again, hating himself for showing her this side of him, one he's always tried to forget even existed.

Kensi brushes her fingers along his jaw, a gentle, soft caress that _burns_ him once she pulls away, standing again. "Good. I'm gonna order some pizza, and then we're putting an end to this. Okay ?"

Deeks looks up at her, fierce and strong and determined and beautiful, and he feels like coming up for fresh air after having spent a lifetime with his head underwater. He nods his head, answering her question with a simple repetition of her words. "Okay."

* * *

She's kneeling on the floor, sheets of paper spread on the coffee table, each one titled with a name. Deeks sits beside her, his back to the couch, and he watches her as she writes down everything he says.

"What does it even matter ?" he asks her, confused, after she asked him to tell her everything he knew about Alvaro Marquez. "He's in jail."

"But Sebastian goes to see him a lot, and I doubt it's to talk about the weather or Alesha's grades. Everything is important, Marty," she insists.

He can't really help but feel warm inside and a little bit light-headed every time she says his name.

He remembers how broken she sounded the first time she said it.

And he has to focus _very_ hard not to imagine her _moaning_ it.

One by one, he tells her everything he knows on just about anyone he's ever come across during his time as Matthew Sturridge; Kensi scribbles down everything, filling sheet of paper after another with every weakness, every tiny flaw in the plan they could use against them.

And then she asks him again the one question he's yet to give an answer to. "How did you do it ? How did you get their own sister to turn against them and help you ?"

He studies her for a moment, his eyes locking with hers as Kensi waits for him to speak. There's just no way he can explain it to her without her thinking that he was _suicidal_, because God, what he did completely broke standard protocol. Maybe that's the reason why no one ever wanted to work with him, despite the fact that his methods, however reckless and insane they could be, always seemed to bring the desired outcome; there was little room for instinct and improvisation among the other detectives.

"I, uh, it was a huge gamble," he finally says, "but I knew it was the right thing to do. I could feel it in my gut, and… I was alone out there, I could barely meet with my case-handler because I was always so busy, and I knew that if I didn't try, I could spend _years_ in there. I knew it. My investigation was going nowhere, I was still in charge of the club and the drugs, but so far, no girls, and I was running out of time…"

Kensi puts her pen down, fully turning to him as she wraps her arms around her knees. She gives him an encouraging smile, and a little one tugs at his lips in response. "I had reached that point when you just can't take it anymore, you know ?" he continues, a haunted look flashing in his eyes as he speaks. "I mean, I had been there for months, something like seven or eight months then, I don't really remember, and I spent my days doing things that… Things that even nights out drinking couldn't help me forget. It was really starting to get to me at this point, the things I'd done," he tries to elaborate, looking for the right words to express how he felt back then without scaring her; he's scared that something he tells her could push her away. "And I was exhausted. For the first time, all I wanted was to go home, even if there was no one waiting for me there…"

Her hand finds his then almost by its own volition, Kensi lacing their fingers together as she mirrors his position, sitting with her back to the couch, staring right in front of her. She gives his hand a gentle squeeze, and she's stunned by how cold his skin is. She wants to tell him that no one could ever blame him for being tired of pretending to be a monster, but Kensi knows that Deeks has spent too much time thinking everything was his fault to believe her. Instead, she just holds onto his hand, raising her other to lay it on top of his, rubbing it to warm him up.

He goes on, trying to fight the assault of images flashing before his eyes. "I – I told her who I was. I told Amaria that I was a LAPD Detective," he adds, but Kensi had perfectly understood the first time. "And I told her that if she helped me, I would make sure she could have the life she wanted. And I knew she wanted _out_. It was – it was _stupid_, but I could feel it in my bones that she'd do it. I mean, she was twenty-two and her brother was planning her life for her and she hated that. I knew that she was aware of what was going on on some levels, and I, uh, I used that. I used to spend a lot of times at their house, taking care of Ally, and I could see that Amaria wasn't happy, because she had to do everything that Alvaro said and decided for her. So… one night when Alvaro was in Sacramento for business and I was taking care of Ally, I went to talk to her. I waited until Ally went to bed and then, we went for a walk. We were the only three at home that night, but even if someone had seen us, it wouldn't have been weird or anything because at this point, Marquez trusted me with his family and I spent a lot of time at his house with his daughter and sister. So, like I said, we went for a walk and that's when I told her."

"And how did she react ?"

"Pretty well, I guess," Deeks chuckles, his thumb gently stroking her hand. "I mean, better than I'd expected, actually. I think she didn't even realize the consequences of what she was about to do, that her brother would go to prison. All she wanted was to be freed from this life, and I had barely told her my name and what I wanted that she was already saying yes. From then on, she became my eyes and ears within the family. I was there so often that we didn't even need to find some secret place to meet." Deeks turns his head to her then, finding warm brown eyes staring at him. "And… I felt like I was finally making progress, you know ? I finally had some solid proof, the evidence I had been looking for. And then, she started flirting with that guy, one of Marquez's men. And _that_ wasn't part of the plan…"

"She asked you if he could come along," Kensi states more than she asks him. "And that wasn't a complication you needed."

"No, I really didn't," Deeks sighs, his teeth digging into his bottom lip for a moment. "And that's when I really thought for a moment that I was gonna die there. Because, if I said no, nothing kept her from telling her brother about who I was, and I would have never tried to defend myself by telling him that she was helping me because he would have killed her without hesitating…" He pauses, struggling to get past the emotions overwhelming him; he had really believed it was the end for him, that he was going to die and that all these months spent building a case against Alvaro Marquez would mean nothing – and _that_ was what killed him the most, the very idea that all his hard work would serve no purpose and that women and girls would keep disappearing and suffering and dying because of his mistake. "But on the other hand, if I said yes, that meant I had to let this guy in, and tell him what we were up to, and I had no reason to do that. I _knew_ that Amaria hated this life, but I didn't know anything about that guy. That was just too risky, too stupid. And yet I had no choice. So I told her I'd do it, but only on one condition: she couldn't tell him anything. I told her that when the moment came, I'd take them somewhere safe and explain everything to him, that he'd be granted immunity for everything he did if he testified like her. That was…_really_, really stupid of me, but I didn't know what else to do."

Kensi can't help the shivers running down her spine upon hearing his story; she has to focus on the pulse she feels under her fingertips to remind herself that Deeks _is_ alive and there with her, safe and unharmed, but it doesn't really help her, nor does it calm her down. What Deeks did was reckless and crazy, but she knows him; knows that his instincts are usually good and that he'd had to have a good reason to trust Amaria. Could he have foreseen what happened next ? No. And yet, he made it out safe and sound, taking down the human ring in the process. So yes, his methods may be unorthodox, but she doesn't know a lot of people who would have done the same for the sake of saving lives.

"She started being too nosey, always wandering around during business meetings, and I tried to warn her at first, but I think she wanted this to be over as much as I did. But I was scared that something would happen to her. So, I met with my case-handler, and we, uh, we actually _kidnapped_ her."

"You did _what_ ?"

Deeks smiles then, a brief, small grin crossing his lips. "I told you, I didn't know what to do. I hadn't seen my case-handler in the longest time and he was _furious_ with me. He actually tried to pull me out, but I refused. I – I was so close, Kens, I couldn't give up now. So we made up a plan. I knew that Amaria saw the boy in secret, I knew where they were going, so we ambushed them; you know, the whole thing, bags on their heads, I hid his car while my case-handler drove them out of town to some little motel. And there, we offered them a real deal: testify against Marquez and be on the witness protection program, or go to jail for her boyfriend. He didn't know much, he was no one for Marquez so it was a deal that benefited Amaria more than him, but after a long talk, he agreed. And then, you know the rest of the story," he says, giving her a little shrug. "When Alvaro found out that Amaria was gone, he sent us all searching for her. I had hidden the car somewhere, and I let someone else find it. Marquez did the math and he was furious. And then, with one little spark I set it all on fire. I told him that he had to be careful about who he was dealing with, and then, everything went downhill… No one trusted no one anymore, and Marquez gave me his full trust. He let me be in charge of the girls, and when all the pieces came together three months later, my case-handler told me to get out of there as soon as I could."

He leans in, giving a disgusted look to the sheets of paper spread on his coffee table; the names written on top of each belong to people that make him sick, people that he's already spent too much time with, more than he can bear. To know that he has to do it all over again, and that Kensi is going to be in harm's way do nothing to calm him down; if anything, Deeks is truly _scared_ for the first time.

Women are their weakness. Amaria, Alesha, Esteban's wife…

_Kensi_.

_Bianca_.

She's _his_ weakness, now.

And yet she's oh so eager to help, just like Amaria had.

It's his case-handler's word that come back to him now, though; words that go completely against who he is and how he feels, words and orders that he still wonders today if he would have followed them had he told him to.

"_You do whatever you have to, Deeks, for the sake of the op. You don't break cover. You remember your goal at all times, and you don't falter. Even if it means collateral damage gets personal. Even if it means you have to lose someone to save another person."_

He still wonders if he would have sacrificed Amaria to save the other women, had things turned wrong.

He has no doubt about Kensi, though.

No doubt at all.

(He's damned whatever he does, anyway.)


End file.
